.-^'^ 



THE OCCASIONAL WRITINGS 






>- 



OF 



ISAAC MOORHEAD 



WITH A 



SKETCH OF HIS LIFE 



BY A. H. C. 



Noil omnis moriar, — Hon. 




^t-, ,1- ( »^ S^ 't^' 



ERIE, PENN. 

A. H. CAUGHEY, PUBLISHER. 

1882. 









COPYRIGHT, 1882. 
By A. H. CAUGHEY. 



PRESS OF 

THE CLAREMONT MANUFACTURING CO., 

CLAREMONT, N. H, 



PREFACE. 



This volume has been prepared at the suggestion of 
friends of the late Isaac Moorhead as a Memorial of 
his worth as a man and his ability as a writer, and in 
order to preserve in this more permanent form some 
portion of his valuable writings. 

Most of the articles appeared originally in the form of 
Letters contributed to one or other of the newspapers of 
his native town. They were read at the time with a 
great deal of interest, and are still remembered, both on 
account of their literary merit, and because they are 
laden with many important facts of local and general 

history. 

The titles of the various pieces generally indicate suf- 
ficiently their character and the time when they were 
written. Other explanations with regard to them will 
be found in the sketch of his life which precedes, or " 
brief notes in the course of the volume. The compiler 
and editor, in addition to preparing the sketch just men- 
tioned, has done little more than arrange the order of 
the articles and correct manifest errors arising from over- 
sight or accident. No doubt literary critics may dis- 
cover defects here and there, not only in the editor's 
work, but possibly also in the Letters themselves ; but 
it should be remembered that the latter were thrown off 
by Mr. Moorhead in the midst of absorbing business 



IV PREFACE. 

engagements, and that he enjoyed no subsequent oppor- 
tunit}' for their revision and correction. 

The work is not pubHshed with an}' purpose or expec- 
tation of pecuniar}' advantage either to the editor and 
publisher or to the family of Mr. Moorhead. The edi- 
tion is limited to three hundred copies ; and these were 
nearly all sub^ribed for in advance b}' the lamented 
author's many warm personal friends, — the price per 
volume being gauged by the cost of publication. 

The sketch of the early history of Erie County, men- 
tioned on page 38, is omitted from the volume. Its 
length would have added considerably to the size of the 
book ; and it seemed proper, moreover, that when pub- 
Hshed — as it doubtless will be in due time — it should be 
in connection with the other Historical Sketches prepared 
at the same time under the auspices of the Historical So- 
ciety. 

The preparation of this work for the press has been a 
labor of love and of deep interest to the writer. He 
only regrets that through his constant engagement in 
other and often distracting duties, he was not able to 
devote to it that very careful attention which he was 
most wiUing to give, and which the great merits and 
value of the writings themselves demanded. 

A. H. Caughey. 

Erie, Pa., Jan'y 11, 1882. 



CONTENTS. 



'^ Isaac Moorhead, 1 

/ Some Things Seen on the Cars : 

I. The Night Express East, 57 

II. Cincinnati Express, 65 

III. The Night Express West from Buffalo, 75 

^ A Visit to Gettysrurg, ^^ 

^ Virginia Battle-fields : 

I. Fredericksburg, • ^-' 

II. Fredericksburg continued, 103 

III. Chancellorsville, ll"!^ 

IV. Chancellorsville continued, 127 

V. Visit to Petersburgh, 135 

VI. Battle of Gaines' Mill, 144 

•^ Old Times in Erie : 

I. A Boy's Walk around the Diamond, 158 

II. A Boy's Walk down Sixth Street, 166 

III. A Boy's Walk down State Street,.... 178 

IV. Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay, 188 

V. Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay 
continued, - 1^4 

VI. A Boy's Walk down Peach Street, .... 204 

VII. The Old Academy, 212 

"^ Selections from the History of the Barnett 

Family, 225 

V Old Hanover Church, 247 



J 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 



Possibly no active man has ever taken leave of 
the world and its busy affairs of whom it could be 
said with truth that he left not an enemy behind. 
There must be misunderstandings; there must be 
crossings of interests ; there must always be busy 
tongues to stir up strifes, and utter words that be- 
come seeds of enmity in the heart. But if ever 
there was one who had been a positive, straightfor- 
ward, active man among men for the greater part 
of half a century, of whom it could be said at the 
close of his career that he had no enemies, that 
man was Isaac Moorhead. 

And not only so, but rarely if ever has there 
been one, born and reared among us, and person- 
ally known to thousands of people, whose death 
has been felt as a personal grief and loss by so 
many. There was that in his character, his pure 
and upright life, his bearing towards all with whom 
he had to do, that made every one his friend. Fill- 
ing during nearly the whole period of his life a 



2 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

private station, and performing the laborious work 
of a perilous and responsible calling, and later dis- 
charging the duties of an important public office 
in a most efficient and acceptable manner, he so 
bore himself as to gain the admiration and confi- 
dence alike of those who were above him in authori- 
ty and of those whom he controlled, and to receive 
the love and kindly regard both of his intimate 
friends and of casual acquaintances. 

While Mr. Moorhead was not, in the ordinary 
sense of the term, a great man, he yet possessed 
elements of greatness. He had that within him 
which, on a higher plane of action, would have en- 
abled him to stand among the distinguished men 
of his time. Physical limitations, want of oppor- 
tunity, the absence of ambition, lack of proper 
self-appreciation, — one or all of these served to 
keep him, as they have kept many others of equal 
or greater ability, within a narrow circle both 
of development and of action. 

One who undertook to characterize President 
Lincoln once said of him, that he was a man of 
apparently two distinct natures. One of these 
showed itself in the ease with which he was able to 
meet men of all classes and characters on their own 
ground, and to enter with alacrity into the rude 
activity and jocose merriment of every day life. 
The other nature was the inner one, that of the 
real man, sincere, earnest, strongly intellectual, 
loving men, honoring God, — ready at all times to 



ISAAC MOOBEEAD. 3 

go forward unflinchingly in the discharge of duty. 
Something of the same dual nature appeared in 
Isaac Moorhead. On one side he seemed to have 
all the characteristics of a man of the world. He 
enjoyed the business that he had chosen for his life 
work. He understood men — read their characters 
easily and accurately. He had a keen sense of the 
ludicrous, and was very ready in jest and repartee. 
Beneath this rougher exterior there were the best 
qualities of the most refined nature — love of purity 
in life and thought ; a most chivalric sense of honor 
and the demands of duty; a deep feeling of religi- 
ous obligation; a love of whatever was most ele- 
vated in literature, and most refined and tasteful in 
art; and a fondness, amounting almost to a passion, 
for the grand and beautiful in the various forms and 
developments of nature. It is the life and character 
of such a man that the writer, who enjoj^ed the priv- 
ilege of being one in his circle of intimate friends 
for more than thirty years, and who still keenly 
feels his irreparable loss, now attempts briefly to 
sketch. 

Born in Erie, Pa., January 28th, 1828, his earli- 
est recollections were of a town of not more than 
three thousand people, about one tenth of its pres- 
ent population. He first saw the light in a house 
on the north side of Sixth street, near the corner of 
French. This has long since disappeared — much to 
the grief of him who claimed it as his first home; 
for he had ever great attachment to places made 



^ ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

sacred to bim by tbe residence of his family or any 
of bis ancestors. His fatber, Thomas Moorbead, 
with jr. attached to tbe name during most of his 
life, to distinguish bim from his father, whose name 
was also Thomas, was one of tbe younger members 
of tbe Lnrge family of Moorbeads who established 
themselves near the town of Erie about tbe begin- 
ning of the present century, and whose descend- 
ants and relatives are now counted hy hundreds in 
this region bordering the lake. The early settlers 
of this name came from Lancaster count}^, Pennsyl- 
vania. A sturdy, upright, God-fearing race, they 
trace their history, and their name as lluirheadSy 
back among tbe Covenanters of old Scotland, and 
to tbe "times that tried men's souls". 

Tbe mother of Mr. Moorbead was Rebekah, 
youngest daughter of Moses Barnett. He was not 
so well known, either in the early or later history 
of tbe county, as was her brother Richard Barnett — 
a man of sterling worth, strong-headed and big- 
hearted and earnest-willed, with elements in bim 
of tbe same Scotch ancestry from wliicb the Moor- 
heads were descended, but crossed with no little of 
the Irish wit and vivacity that attached to tbe fam- 
ily nature as the result apparently of their long so- 
journ in Ireland before emigrating to America. 

As a boy Isaac spent much of bis time at his 
Grandfather Barnett's in the country, — "Uncle 
Dick's" as he was accustomed to call the place 
in later vears. It was here, and during his fre- 



ISAAC MOORHEAD, 5 

qneut visits to his Moorbead relatives in Harbor- 
creek, that his love of nature and of a country life 
was developed and strengthened. Even in bis latest 
years, a day in the country, wandering through the 
woods and over the green fields, listening to the 
chorus of birds and meadow insects, was somethinor 
to be looked forward to and deeply enjoyed. Es- 
pecially did he enjoy such a visit in the spring of 
the year, when his dear friends, the birds, every 
one of which he knew by name and note and plu- 
mage, were returnirjg to their haunts and were busy 
with their mating and nesting. 

In the year 1838 he became a student of the 
Erie Academy, first under the principalship of 
James G. Park, and afterwards under that of 
Eeid T. Stewart. Between the administrations of 
these two excellent teachers he spent a year or 
two in the select school of Mr. Asa Foster, and 
later in that of Lemuel G. Olmstead. The latter 
was a most thorough and pains-taking teacher and 
an enthusiast in some of the natural sciences, as 
botany, zoology, etc., and it was with him that 
Isaac, already, as we have seen, a fond observer 
and student of nature, acquired much of the ac- 
curate knowledge he possessed concerning birds 
and flowers and rocks. While a bright scholar 
and learning easily whatever he was set to study, 
he was by no means one of those students who ex- 
emplify the saying that "All work (or study) and 
no play makes Jack a dull boy." His keen sense 



6 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

of humor, and the quickness with whicli he saw 
and the thoroughness with w^hich he enjoyed a 
joke, practical or verhal, and the zest with which 
he took part in the various pranks that school- 
boj^s are never at a loss in devising, made him a 
great favorite with all his mates and a leading 
spirit in whatever required talent in originating 
and address in carrying into execution. 

But he had higher qualities than those of fun- 
making and school-boy tricks. One of his early 
school-mates thus speaks of him : ''Mr. Moorhead 
was noted when quite young for his devotion to 
what he considered as right, and his zealous ad- 
vocacy of the principles imbibed by him; and at 
the same time for his manliness towards an oppo- 
nent. I remember a little incident illustratincr 
this feature of his character, which occurred in the 
summer of 1838, when he attended the Academy, 
his parents at that time residing on the north east 
corner of Peach and Eighth streets, where the man- 
sion of H. M. Reed, Esq., now stands. A boy of 
a quarrelsome disposition came along in that vicin- 
ity, and attempted to impose on some small boy 
without any cause. Moorhead at once interfered, 
and although younger and smaller than the bully, 
he resolutely undertook to protect the endangered 
youth, at the risk to himself of a sound beating. 
But such were his manliness and generosity that 
he would rather hazard a whipping than stand by 
and see a young boy imposed upon. 



ISAAC MOOREEAD. 7 

"Another instance of Mr. Moorhead's resolute 
adherence to what he regarded as right, was shown 
a few years later. A resolution w^as by some means 
passed (without legal authority, as Moorhead firm- 
ly believed,) to transfer the Library and other prop- 
erty of the old Apprentices' Society, to which he 
was. greatly attached, from the Grand Jury room 
in the court house, where it had long been located, 
to the Academy, the final act of the merging of 
the Apprentices' into the Irving Institute. Mr. 
M. was librarian at the time, and believing, as he 
did, that the transfer was without right, he refused 
to deliver up the keys, until satisfied that he could 
no longer resist legally; and even then, so strong 
was his conviction of the injustice of the act that 
he refused to deliver the keys formally, but com- 
pelled the parties seeking them to go and get them 
where he had placed them. He refused to be a 
voluntary party to the consummation of what he 
regarded as a wrong, and even braved imprison- 
ment rather than yield to injustice." 

The same gentleman speaks of being joined with 
Mr. Moorhead, when they were young fellows to- 
gether, in organizing and maintaining the "cele- 
brated Owl Club", which, he says, "for several years 
created quite a sensation here (in Erie), and the 
history of which found its way into that noted 
mao-azine, the 'Knickerbocker'". He acted as 
secretary for nearly the entire time of its existence, 
and faithfully discharged the dutiesof the position. 



8 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

^'Mr. Moorhead was also Vice Fresident, or in 
other words 'Grand Hooter', of this w^ell known as- 
sociation. The society was composed of boys. 
They had little means, and could not always pay 
the rent of the room occupied by them, which 
was in the third story of the Perry Block. The 
gentleman whose business it was to collect the rent 
persistently pressed the boys for the amount due. 
But not being able to pay promptly, and the room 
having been for years prior to that time vacant, 
they did not consider that the landlord ought to 
be so ursrent about the rent. He stated to the of- 
ficers that he would call when the society was in 
session and state his case to the meeting formally. 
On the coming of the meeting the claimant of rent 
made his appearance. As he reached the door, all 
w-as silent, and darkness reigned in the room in a 
moment. After some parleying the visitor was ad- 
mitted, but it was under circumstances that forced 
from him an unwilling cancellation of any indebt- 
edness claimed by him. The boys had arranged 
matters as follows. They had several jaw bones, 
swords, banjos, muskets, and other weapons of a 
sonorous character, which were immediately put 
into requisition on the admission of their visitor. 
The clangor of swords, muskets, bayonets, and jaw 
bones, coupled with the darkness and the hoarse 
voices of some of the loud-voiced members, so 
worked upon his excited sensibilities, that he beg- 
ged to be released from the room, and solemnly 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. Q 

promised that he would never say rent again, nor 
disturb the boj-s in their amusements. He after- 
wards frequently related the incident and gave the 
boys credit for being too shrewd for an old man." 

Although but a boy, Moorhead was one of the 
most active and useful members both of the ''Young 
Men's Association" and of its successor the "Irving 
Literary Institute". For four or five years he was 
one of the editors of The Literary Review^ a paper 
written for the "Irving Institute" and read every 
Saturday evening at the meetings. It contained 
much that would be interesting to some of our older 
citizens now — reminiscences of old times in the 
town and neighborhood, biographical sketches of 
the members and of prominent citizens, now long 
deceased, and local matters of various kinds. While 
a student of the Academy he aided in getting u]3 a 
Scholars' Literary Journal, and continued to act 
as one of the editors during the entire period of 
Reid T. Stewart's administration as Principal of 
the Academy. 

Moorhead left school in 1845 — a year memorable 
to many old Academy students as that in which 
their beloved principal, Reid T. Stewart, died. 
For the three or four years next following, he assist- 
ed his father, who was Register and Recorder of the 
county, in his oflice ; and it was here that he ac- 
quired, or perfected, the bold and symmetrical style 
of penmanship that was one of his noticeable accom- 
plishments. 



10 ISAAC MOOBHEAD. 

His health being delicate, he went, kite in the aa- 
tumn of 1848, to Dayton, Ohio, to spend the winter 
with his Uncle, Joseph Barnett, who resided therQ. 
This visit and the trip thither constituted one of the 
memorable episodes in bis earlier life, and furnish- 
ed him with a large fund of reminscences and anec- 
dotes ever afterwards. A party of four young men 
of nearly his own age, namely, John C. Reid, D. 
B. Mc Crear}^ A. H. Caughey and John B. Gunni- 
son, were leaving home at about the same time, and 
they planned to go with him as far as the city of 
Pittsburgh. It was some }■ ears before the introduc- 
tion of railroads in the Lake Shore region. Two 
modes of conveyance were open to the traveller, 
one by stage-coach over what was a very good 
road in dry weather, except that the many hills to 
be climbed were nearly as steep as nature made 
them ; the other by the Erie Extension Canal and 
the Ohio river. A two or three days' journey 
was before our young gentlemen by either route; 
but the prospect of fun and freedom was greater 
by the canal packet, which, in spite of its slow pro- 
gress of four or five miles an hour, held out the in- 
ducement of "three square meals" a day, a quiet 
seat or lounge in the ''state room", and a foot race 
when desired with the horses on the towing-path. 
The incidents of this trip were doubtless noted 
down by more than one member of the party; but 
if a journal was kept by any, it is not now availa- 
ble. 



ISAAC MOORHEAD, 11 

One of the methods adopted for whiling away 
the lingering hours— when they had grown tired 
of talking and laughing and phxying jokes on one 
another — was that of singing. None of the party 
were particuhirly noted for their musical performan- 
ces at home. In fact one or two of them could do 
no more than stand up with the rest and open and 
shut their mouths in simulation of musical articu- 
lation. But after they had sung together a few of 
the popular songs of the day, the remaining pas- 
sengers seemed greatly delighted, and prevailed on 
them to repeat the exercise. Whereupon the par- 
ty quietly assumed to he a traveling concert com- 
pany, the ^'Nicholson Family", on their way to 
Pittsburgh. Their concert tour ended, however, 
when they left the steam-boat at that city — for the 
canal packet was exchanged for a steamer when 
the Ohio river was reached 30 miles below. At 
Pittsburgh the friends separated — two for college; 
Mr. Moorhead taking a steamer to continue his 
journey to Dayton ; the rest proceeding to other 
destinations; and thus the '^Nicholson Family" 
was disbanded. 

This visit to Dayton was of great importance to 
Mr. Moorhead, and to some extent it was the turn- 
ing point in his life. His Uncle Barnett and his 
wife, who had no children of their own, became 
very much attached to him, and tried to persuade 
liis parents to let him remain in their fiimily. Mr. 
Barnett was a man of considerable wealth, and was 



12 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

engaged in the iron business; and, being somewhat 
advanced in life, be wished to set bis nephew up in 
business in Dayton under bis own eye, in the same 
branch of trade in which he himself was emrao-ed. 
His oflers were most liberal, and such as it was hard 
for a young man who had his own way to make 
in the world to decline. But the attachment of 
home and friends, and the prospect of embarking 
in business in his native town, determined him fi- 
nally to forego the offer made by his uncle. His 
father joining soon after in a mercantile enterprise 
with Thomas and Alexander Hughes, they opened 
a store on State street, near the corner of Seventh, 
and Isaac was engaged for the next year or two in 
this business. 

But the New York Central Railroad was already 
(1849) completed to Buffalo, and the great New 
York and Erie was rapidly progressing towards the 
Lake. It was believed that the company prosecut- 
ing the latter might be induced to make Erie the 
terminus of their road instead of Dunkirk. A com- 
paiiy was therefore formed to construct a railroad 
from Erie to the N. Y. state line, with a view of 
connecting there with the New York and Erie Road, 
which it was hoped would be extended towards 
the west. A corps of engineers was formed under 
the charge of James C. Reid, one of the most 
accomplished of mathematicians and civil engineers, 
to survey and lay out the road and superintend the 
work of construction ; and Isaac Moorhead, Wil- 



ISAAO MOOEHEAD. X3 

liam W. Eeecl, William Brewster, John C. Reid 
and several other Erie young men joined the corps. 
This was in 1850-51, and Mr. Moorhead was em- 
ployed in this capacity until the completion of the 
road. 

When the Erie and IlTorth East Railroad, as it 
was originally called, was opened for business in the 
winter of 1851-52, Mr. Moorhead became pay- 
master, and after a few months, at his own request, 
conductor of one of the two passenger trains put 
upon it, Mr. John Moore having charge of the 
other. The trains were run to the J^ew York state 
line, three miles below North East. The Buffalo 
and State Line Road liad recently been finished to 
the same point; but having a gauge of four feet 
eight and a half inches, while that of the Erie and 
North East was of six feet, a transfer of passeno-ers 
and baggage had to be made from one road to the 
other. The Cleveland, Painesville and Ashtabula 
Railroad, with a four feet ten inch gauge, was ex- 
tended to Erie in the fall of 1852. The New York 
& Erie Railroad having been completed throuo-h to 
Dunkirk, expectations were high that it would be 
extended to connect with the Erie and North East 
Road at the state line. But these expectations were 
never realized, and for some two years the Erie 
and North East Company continued to operate 
their broad gauge road, of only twenty miles in 
length, as a connecting link between the two nar- 
row gauge roads, the one coming from Ohio and 



IJ^ ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

the other from New York. This double change 
of cars within so short a distance was a great in- 
convenience and annoyance to the travelling and 
business public, and the pressure for relief became 
very strong. 

At length the change came; the "railroad war" 
followed; and in due time there was a road of uni- 
form width of track from Buffalo to Cleveland — in 
fact from tide water to Chicago and the further 
West. 

The period of the railroad war was one that tested 
the stuff of which Mr. Moorhead was made. He 
had to runli train daily through the ''seat of war" in 
Ilarborcreek and the neighborhood of Erie when 
the condition of the road permitted. Otherwise 
coaches and wagons, or sometimes sleighs, were to 
be provided, and the disgusted and impatient pas- 
sengers to be transferred to these and conveyed 
seven or eight miles through mud and storm, or 
drifting snows, around the broken bridges or torn 
np tracks. To do this in the midst of a hostile 
population, and when threats of bodily injury were 
not infrequent, and to do it calmly, resolutely and 
in a way not calculated to excite and exasperate, 
required discretion, tact and good judgment in a 
more than ordinary degree. He performed his 
duty faithfully and fearlessly, and yet in such a 
spirit of manly conciliation and considerateness as 
to gain the respect and good will of all except the 
reckless and evil-minded. In fact throughout his 



ISAAC MOOBHEAD. 15 

long career in his hazardous vocation as a raih'oad 
conductor, he never seemed to be affected bv fear. 
Watchful and prudent in the management of his 
train, and solicitous for the comfort and welfare of 
others, he seemed to take no thought for himself 
when the path of duty lay through peril and diffi- 
culty. So that some of his nearest friends have 
said of him that he was absolutely without fear. 

In September, 1853, Mr. Moorhead was united 
in marriage with Miss Caroline Hoskinson, eldest 
daughter of William and Eleanor Hoskinson. It 
was a true union of mutual affection, and their 
married life proved an exceptionally happy one. 
There were ever between them mutual forbear- 
ance, mutual helpfulness, and a community of 
tastes ; and while there was congeniality of dis- 
position, there was enough of that independence 
of thought and feeling on either side that furnish- 
es the spice of married life. Three children were 
born to them, the eldest of whom died in infancy. 
Ruth, now Mrs. Fred Metcalf, and Maxwell Wood, 
three to four years younger, are children of such 
worth and talent and dutifulness that any parents 
might well be proud of them. The love between 
the father and daughter especially, and his fond 
admiration of her as the bright star of his home, 
were beautiful to behold. 

In 1858 Mr. Moorhead bought the fine property 
on West Seventh street which continued to be his 
home for the remainder of his life. He took great 



le ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

pleasure in improving and adorning it, and never 
was so happy as when in this pleasant home, in the 
midst of his books and the rare gatherings of his an- 
tiquarian and historical taste, with his family about 
him, or when entertaining a few cherished friends. 
It was here that the genuine worth of the man, 
and the native gentility and beauty of his charac- 
ter, appeared at their best. So much withdrawn 
from his home as he was by the demands of his 
exacting business, it grew more and more dear to 
him, and was truly his haven of rest and delight. 

During that marked period of political turmoil 
and excitement from 1852 to 1860, Mr. Aloor- 
head, though taking no active part in politics, was 
an intelligent and deeply interested spectator. 
Trained a Whig, he had borne his full share as 
boy and young man in the stirring Presidential 
campaigns of 1840 and 1844, taking part in the 
processions, the song-singing, and all the hurrah- 
ing and enthusiasm of those eventful times. La- 
menting, as did so many others, with an almost 
personal grief, the defeat of gallant Henry Clay, 
and rejoicing in the triumph of the blunt old 
soldier, Taylor, in 1848, he was not prepared 
to desert the Whig standard when it went down 
in defeat in the hands of the hero of two wars, 
General Scott, in 1852. When therefore the 
broken elements of the party began, in 1853-4, 
to crystalize about the knot of anti-slavery men 
calling themselves Free-soilers, and to take shape 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 17 

as the Republican party, nominating John C. Fre- 
mont as their candidate for President in 1856, like 
multitudes of other '^ Old Line Whigs," Mr. 
Moorhead could not see his way clear to desert the 
old and join the new standard, especially while 
such sterling patriots and Whigs as John Bell and 
Edward Everett were still clinging to the old flag 
and gallantly bearing it forward, albeit to utter 
and assured defeat. Buchanan was elected. The 
Kansas-Nebraska troubles broke out. The Repub- 
lican party began to grow rapidly, with constant 
accretions from both Whigs and Democrats. The 
year 1860 dawned, and Abraham Lincoln was nom- 
inated and elected ; and the threats and animosi- 
ties and border conflicts of four years developed 
into secession and the great Civil War 

From the very outset Mr. Moorhead, notwith- 
standing his natural inclination to peace and con- 
servative measures, was heartily on the side of the 
government. The nerveless policy of President 
Buchanan during the anxious months succeeding 
the election of Mr. Lincoln ; the manifest deter- 
mination of the southern leaders to carry out at 
all hazards their purpose of secession ; and finally 
the firing upon Fort Sumter, made a war patriot 
of every true friend of the Union. 

As a member of the fine military company, the 
"Wayne Guards," of which John W. McLane 
(afterwards Colonel of the 83d Penn. regiment) 
was captain, Mr. Moorhead was disposed to go 



18 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

with the company should they resolve to tender 
their services to the government. But when it 
was finally determined to raise a full regiment for 
the three months service, and to divide the Guards 
up into squads, each to serve as the nucleus of a 
new company officered by the well-drilled mem- 
bers of the old, Mr. Moorhead, like many others of 
the members, came to the conclusion not to volun- 
teer as an individual and connect himself wath a 
new company — especially as more than enough to 
till the regiment were pressing forward to join its 
ranks. But no apology is needed for the thous- 
ands of good and true men, who, though not 
shouldering a musket and rendering actual service 
in the field, were sustaining the government by 
giving aid to its cause in all proper ways at home, 
and by helping to carry on the necessary business 
of the country. One of his close personal friends 
thus speaks of Mr. Moorhead's deep interest in the 
cause of the country, and of his exceedingly valu- 
able services both to the government and to those 
in the field, or sufiTering in prison or hospital, 
whom he could in any way aid by his means or by 
active interference in their behalf: 

''He was supremely loyal to the Union," writes 
this friend, "and regarded with intense interest all 
the measures of the government for the suppres- 
sion of the rebellion — studying with great intelli- 
gence the movements of the armies engaged in 
that great conflict. He had many personal friends in 



ISAAC MO OB HEAD. IQ 

the army J especially in the various military organ- 
izations that went from Erie County. These 
friends he watched and bore in his thoughts durino- 
the long contest with unceasing solicitude. For 
them, and for the welfare of themselves and their 
families, his heart ever beat warmly. Many were 
the kindly remembrances that reached them from 
his unselfish hand, and many were the encourag- 
ing letters written by him to cheer them in the 
performance of their arduous and dangerous duties, 
and to assure them that the sacrifices they were 
making were not forgotten nor unappreciated by 
their friends at home. It can be truly said of Mr. 
Moorhead that he never omitted an opportunity to 
show to those engaged in the war, whether oflicers 
or privates, that he was their true friend ; and no 
sacrifice was too great for him to make when he 
could add to their comfort. Often has he been 
known to delay his train at stations between Erie 
and EuflTalo, when he saw coming in the distance 
some soldier accompanied by his fiither, or his wife 
and children, to take his train. Perhaps he was 
returning to the army from a furlough or a sick 
leave, and to miss this train would bring him to his 
regiment after his leave had expired, and thus 
subject him to punishment under the severe but 
necessary regulations of the army. Taking all 
this in at a glance, he preferred even the censure 
of the ofiicers of the railroad company rather than 
have the returning soldier suffer inconvenience. 



20 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

''Such things in themselves may not seem to be of 
much importance, but to the soldier they meant a 
great cleah And besides they showed the thought- 
ful, humane heart of one who, whether in little or 
in great things, never forgot those who were de- 
fending their country and his. Some of his friends 
were kept for long months in Confederate prisons 
in the South. They seemed to be ever upon his 
mind. How to do something whereby their hard- 
ships and sufferings might be relieved was to him 
a matter of constant anxiety and care. In one in- 
stance he succeeded, by correspondence with Pres- 
ident Lincoln and Secretary Stanton, in getting 
certain rules and regulations suspended so that 
money and clothing were furnished to CoL Snead 
of Georgia, a Confederate prisoner at Johnson's 
Island. In return for this Col. Snead's father fur- 
nished Mr. Moorhead's friend (Col. D. B. Mc 
Creary), who was a prisoner at Columbia, South 
Carolina, with money, by means of which he could 
obtain food and clothing during a hard winter — 
thus greatly relieving his suff'erings. 

'' This interesting incident developed into what 
misfht be called a romance of the war. Mr. Moor- 
head and his friend who had been thus relieved, 
began and maintained for many years a delightful 
correspondence with Colonel Snead and his father, 
Judge Snead, residing in Augusta, Georgia. When 
Colonel Snead was married he came north with 
his bride, and visited Mr. Moorhead and his friend 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 21 

in Erie, and of course talked over the origin of 
their acquaintance with much pleasure and inter- 
est. An urgent invitation by the Colonel (now 
Judge) Snead to return the visit was accepted and 
would ere long have been fulfilled had Mr. Moor- 
head's life been spared. 

"After the battle of Fredericksburs^h the wife of 
one of his friends was very anxious to go to her 
husband, who lay very sick in camp. But the con- 
fusion that prevailed after that disastrous battle 
rendered it next to impossible for any one to get a 
pass in Washington to go to the army. Mr. Moor- 
head solved the difficulty by going with the lady to 
Washington, and by personal appeal at the War 
Department he procured a pass for both and took 
her safely to her husband's tent across the river from 
Fredericksburgh. No visit ever made to a sick 
bed was more cheering to the invalid than this 
one. 

" The widow of the lamented Col. Mc Lane had a 
longing desire to visit the place where her husband 
fell. Indeed it seemed as if she could not be rec- 
onciled until she made this sad pilgrimage. Mr. 
Moorhead, knowing her anxiety, accompanied her 
to the battlefield of Gaines' Mill, Virginia; and, 
after many difficulties, found where Col. Mc Lane's 
regiment was stationed at the time of his death, 
June 27, 1862. 

"So great was Mr. Moorhead's interest in the war 
that he carefully preserved the letters received by 



22 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

him from his friends in the army, and filed them 
away in a book. They were full of information 
concerning life in camp, on the march, on the pick- 
et line, and in the field, with the impressions of the 
writers about the various commanders, the meas- 
ures of Government, etc., and were an unfailing 
source of pleasure to Mr. Moorhead for long years 
after the war had closed. 

"Those who knew Mr. Moorhead knew well, as 
he did himself, that he was physically unable to en- 
dure the severe duties of army life. But for this 
he would cheerfully have engaged in the service of 
his country ; and often did he express regret at his 
inability to do so. But, as shown above, he was al- 
ways ready with hand and purse to do, as a private 
citizen, whatever he could do to maintain the cause 
of the government and to aid and cheer his friends 
in the army and lighten their burdens." 

It must also be said — and in this consisted the 
o^reat merit of all his efforts — that whatever he con- 
tributed of his means, and whatever sacrifices he 
made, it was all given and done freel}^, and with- 
out any thought or hope of future benefit to him- 
self. Both his patriotism and his friendship were 
of the most unselfish and disinterested kind. 

In the early period of the war Mr. Moorhead 
began to keep a book of personal records. It was 
not really a diary, for the occurences of every day 
were not noted; but whenever anything notewor- 
thy did occur in the experience of himself, or his 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 28 

family and intimate friends, it was carefully but 
briefly written down. It is most valuable as a fam- 
ily history, but, as he remarks on the introductory 
page, was "not meant nor intended in any part of 
it for publication." But for this implied prohibi- 
tion the writer of the present sketch would be able 
to enliven it with many a pleasant paragraph — re- 
marks on persons and things, and records of cur- 
rent events which would serve to illustrate the 
course of thought and life, as well as the graphic 
power as a writer of him whose pen is now laid 
aside forever. The record was continued with pains- 
taking fidelity down till within a few weeks of his 
death, and is a magazine of important facts and 
dates both of a public and private character. 

About the same time that he began to keep the 
personal journal just mentioned, he became deeply 
interested in the annals and history of his ancestors. 
He was naturallj^ of an antiquarian disposition, 
and had in him all the qualities of the faithful and 
accurate historian. He took a deep interest in the 
settlement in this country of the Scoth-Irish, from 
whom on both sides he derived his descent; and, 
had his life been spared to the period of old age, 
with the quiet leisure that there was a fair promise 
he might have enjoyed in his later years, a history of 
this strong-hearted and strong-brained people, whose 
influence on this nation has been so great, might 
have come forth from his full stocked memory and 
vigorous pen. But as it was, he spent a great deal 



2Jf. ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

of time and labor and no small amount of money 
in gathering the materials for the history of his im- 
mediate ancestors, tracing out their various lines 
of relationship, and, in the case of the Barnett fam- 
ily, to which he belon«;ed on his mother's side, com- 
piling a connected narrative of their immigration, 
settlement, and early experiences in this country. 
Some portions of this narrative are exceedingly in- 
teresting as general historj^, and perhaps appropri- 
ate extracts from it ma}- be given in another part of 
this volume. The history occupies ninety closely 
written manuscript pages. To this is added an ac- 
count of Old Hanover Church, situated a few miles 
east of Harrisburg, Penn. This was the church of 
the Barnett family before their removal to Erie 
county, and is one of the famous old churches of 
that region of Pennsylvania. The first building 
was erected about 1735, and the second, the one 
now standing, in 1788. Mr. Mobrhead's account 
of his visit to the old church of his ancestors in 
1866, is one of the most interesting of his letters, 
and will be found in this volume. 

The *' History of the Moorhead Family" was 
never written. A volume was procured, and a large 
number of statistics of different families compiled, 
interspersed with photographs of persons and places; 
but the narrative of their emigration from Scotland, 
their sojourn in the north of Ireland, their coming 
to this country and settlement first in Lancaster 
County, Penn., and then in Erie County, was nev- 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 25 

er fully prepared. He had gathered and digested 
a considerable amount of materials, however, and a 
few 3^ear8 more of health and life would no doubt 
have seen this work also, which Mr. Mooorhead 
had fully set before himself to do, accomplished. 
As it is, the pages of the book lie sadly vacant, 
waiting for the hand of son, or daughter, or grand- 
son, to complete what the father had so well begun 
and lovingly planned. 

In October, 1864, while the country was throb- 
bing with the intense excitement both of the war 
and of a presidential election canvass, Mr. Moor- 
head with his wife and daughter Ruth, then a child 
of but five or six summers, paid a visit to the fa- 
mous battlefield of Gettysburg. The memory of all 
the terrible scenes through which they had passed 
was still vividly fresh in the minds of the people 
there, and the camp debris and battle-wreck of two 
miglity armies still lay thickly scattered over all 
the hills and valleys round about. Even the low, 
distant thunder of hostile cannon could be occasion- 
ally heard, reminding citizen and visitor alike that 
war was a terrible fact in the land yet. 

It was just the time for a man possesing the ac- 
tive imagination of Mr. Moorhead, and who took so 
deep an interest as he did in the cause of the coun- 
try and in studying accurately the facts of the great 
conflict, to visit this most famous battlefield of the 
war. His observations were careful and minute, 
and written out with more than ordinary clearness. 



m ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

His views especially of that part of the hotly con- 
tested field where Gen. Strong Vincent heUl com- 
mand and where he bravely fell, and his discrimi- 
nating estimate of that officer's ability as a comman- 
der, and of his conduct in the very crisis of the 
great battle, may fairly be reckoned one of the 
best pieces of criticism to be found in the literature 
of the war. This monogram, under the title of "A 
visit to Gettysburg", will be found given at length 
in another part of this volume. 

Sometime during the year 1868 Mr. Moorhead, 
accompanied by his friend Gen. Mc Creary, visited 
the battlefields of Virginia. His observations 
were communicated at the time, in a series of let- 
ters, to the Erie Dispatch. They are of much local 
as well as general interest, and are reprinted in 
this volume. 

In the summer of 1865, with his family and a 
small party of friends, he took the delightful trip 
down the river St. Lawrence, stopping at Montreal 
and quaint old Quebec, and passing on from the 
latter city, b}' the Grand Trunk Railroad, to Port- 
land and Scarborough Beach, Maine. Although it 
was the second time he had made this trip (his wed- 
ding journey, twelve years before, had been down 
the same grand water-course) he was full of enthu- 
siasm for all the beauty and grandeur of this mag- 
nificent northern stream, with its lakes and multi- 
tudinous islands and roaring rapids, and the unique 
cities and old-time villages that stud its banks. 



ii 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 27 

Of the stately city of Montreal he says : "It is cer- 
tainly nearer my heart than any other city I have 
*'yet seen, and I ask no better trip than that down 
"the St. Lawrence once in two years." Arriving at 
Quebec — which seems like a town of medieval 
Europe with large accretions of more modern times 
crystalized about it — "We landed," he says, "amid 
"a crowd of drivers of wagons, caleches, etc. ; and? 
"assailed by a jargon of French, we took seats in 
"the omnibus of the St. Louis Hotel (Russell's). 
"Up, up, up the steep street through Prescott Gate 
"and within the walls. Soon we are roomed-atthe 
"Hotel. Out we go, and climb the fortifications as 
"far as the ditch. What a grand view ! the St. 
"Lawrence, Point Levi, the village of French 
"houses all along the way to Montmorenci, and 
"the quaint old city of Quebec at your feet." 

The party remained but two or three days at 
Quebec, and then struck out by rail through the 
country of the "Habitans" and central Maine for 
the Atlantic coast. His short vacation drawing to 
a close, Mr. Moorhead could remain but a short 
time at Scarborough Beach. But the beautiful and 
attractive things he found there — the long stretch 
of smooth shingle, the marsh-meadows, the rocks, 
the grand sea itself — made so deep an impresion 
upon him that he was drawn back on three or four 
subsequent occasions to the same spot for much 
longer visits. It had a great fascination for him; 
and he had also formed greatly valued friendships 



28 ISAAC MOORBEAD, 

there, which Avere quite as attractive to him as the 
beauty and grandeur of the sea itself. 

One of tliese subsequent visits was in the sum- 
mer of 1870, and was thoroughly enjoyed. He 
speaks of the sensation of his first "dash in the 
waves" as "freezingly cold at first", but from the 
reaction greatly "invigorative and refreshing," and 
he represents himself as being as "happy as a boy 
in school vacation, with the week all before him." 

His next visit to this charming "summer home 
by the sea", as he came to regard it, was made 
with his family and some intimate friends in 1872. 
His journal on this occasion fairly bubbles over 
with expressions of his admiration and delight. 
For example : "I took the children and went with 
*'C. to the *Upper Rocks' to see the dashing of the 
"surf upon them. We sat a long time enjoying 
"the fine view; then went down to the shore and 
"bathed our hands and heads in a basin in the rocks. 
''Thence we walked to 'Rocky Hill' and looked over 
"the marsh, and traced the winding 'None-Such' 
"by the vQvy full tide." Each day has its record of 
something "glorious" or "grand" or "unsurpassed" 
that was seen or experienced. In one place he 
says: "We enjoyed one of the finest sunsets I ever 
" saw — such an one as Kreigoff delights to paint in 
"his Canada Views." Of a certain day in July, he 
makes this record : "It was conceded by all of our 
''party that this was the most perfect day of our 
" many at the sea-side this year. There was noth- 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. ^g 

"ing to wish for in air, sky, sea, or sun. It was a 
"perfect and complete day, bright and clear and 
"warm, and it will be as such in memory 'the per- 
"fect Thursday/ " 

In 1873 he again took his vacation at the sea- 
shore, leaving home on the 24th of July, and 
going through by rail to the same quiet and de- 
lightful place. Two fine hotels stand near the 
beach, the resort every season of a throng of health 
or pleasure seekers. But he chose to go again to 
the pleasant farm-house a little further back from 
the shore, and affording a fine out-look towards 
the marsh-meadows and the pine woods, as well as 
over the sea, the beach and the rocky head-lands. 
Here, with his little family and a few friends who, 
like himself, were fond lovers of the same pleas- 
ant spot, he setteld down, in perfect content, for a 
few weeks of pure enjoyment and relaxation. His 
account of the pleasures of this visit is pitched on 
a high key throughout. Almost every page of his 
journal is adorned with a photograph of one of the 
beautiful and familiar scenes of the region, and in 
several of these the group of friends appear who 
make up this pleasant seaside party ; and his pen- 
pictures are made scarcely less vivid to the imagi- 
nation of the reader than the sun-pictures to the 
eye. Each day seemed to be full to the brim with 
enjoyment. ITow there was an exhilirating bath 
in the cool waves; now a long walk along the 
beach and over the rocks or through the fragrant 



so ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

pine groves ; now a visit to "Gunnison's field" or 
"Rocky Hill" to view a glorious sunset on the 
White Mountains, Mount Washington lifting its 
great rounded summit up into the crimson sky 
ninety miles away. At another time there was a 
fishing excursion to "Kettle Cove," and great suc- 
cess was achieved in entrapping the finny denizens 
of the cold rolling waves. For it is no quiet pool 
that one chooses to throw his line in when fishing 
at the sea-shore, if he expects or desires to fill his 
basket with "cunners," but right out from the 
half submerged rocks into the swashing waves. 
And this was a sport which Mr. Moorhead — always 
a fond lover of old Izaak Walton's pastime — took 
great delight in. "When the tide went out," he 
notes of one fishing excursion, " ray friend and 
"I went with Coolbroth to the outer rocks for an 
"hour for ^cunners', and as fast as Coolbroth could 
"take them from the hooks and put on bait (clams) 
"we caught them. Three several times did I 
"catch two at one draw. Filling our baskets, we 
"returned and found the girls picking star-fish 
"from the rocks, and the boys catching crabs in a 
"quiet pool, with pants rolled to hips and enjoj^ing 
"themselves hugely." 

But this sea-side visit, so health-giving and so 
full of satisfying out-door pleasures, came to an 
end all too soon, and it was his last. Almost ev- 
ery season afterwards he was planning that by the 
next summer or the next he would again return to 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. si 

dear old Scarboro' Beach. But an increase in fam- 
ily expenses, and a partial failure in a business in- 
vestment, prevented him from fulfilling his pur- 
pose. More such visits and longer periods of re- 
laxation might have added many years to hia life. 
But he had not yet discovered the stealthy ap- 
proach of disease. 

There was another region besides the coast of 
Maine which Mr. Moorhead took much interest 
in visiting, that of Lake Champlain and Lake 
George. ]S'"ot only the beautiful and picturesque 
character of the country itself, but the historical 
associations connected with it and the romantic 
interest with which Cooper's Leather-Stocking 
tales had invested it, made the shores of Lake 
George very attractive to him. Cooper's J^ovels 
constituted some of his earliest reading as a boy, 
and he always continued to read them. They 
seemed to have the freshness of youth to him, so 
full were they of the free life of the mountain and 
forest and prairie, and so much of our wild early 
history was woven into them. With the battles 
and warlike movements that took place in the re- 
gion lying between the Mohawk and the St. Law- 
rence, both during the revolutionary war and the 
later British war, hb was perfectly familiar. A visit 
to Lake George, therefore, gratified three strong 
sentiments, his admiration for fine natural scenery, 
his deep interest in primitive history, and his love 
of the romantic and legendary. 



32 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

But our following Mr. Moorheacl in his later 
visits to Scarboro' Beach has carried us forward 
too rapidly in his history. Let us go back to an 
earlier period. After nearly twenty years of contin- 
uous and faithful service as a conductor, first on 
the Erie and North East and afterwards on the Buf- 
falo and Erie Railroad, he felt the need of a period 
of rest ; and his friend Gen. Mc Creary having been 
appointed Adjutant General of the State under 
Gov. Geary, he gladly accepted the otFer of a clerk- 
ship in the office of the former — the railroad au- 
thorities willingly granting him a leave of absence 
for this purpose. This was in the beginning of the 
winter of 1867-8, and he remained at Harrisburg 
till April following. He spent a period of about 
equal length in the same office the next winter. 
At the beginning of the Legislative session of 1870 
he was elected Chief Clerk in the Transcribing 
Room of the House of Representatives, and twice 
reelected to the same position in the following ses- 
sions. He proved a dilligent and faithful and in 
every way competent and acceptable officer. And 
while he served the State faithfully, he found abun- 
dance of time and large opportunity, during these 
four or five winters at the State Capitol, to pursue 
his favorite historical studies and researches. The 
State Library was free to his use ; and he also made 
the valuable acquaintance of Dr. W. H. Egle, au- 
thor of the History of Pennslyvania, who became 
greatly attached to him. Afterwards Dr. E. se- 



ISAAC MOORHEAD, 3S 

cured his services in the preparation of the History 
of Erie County which is incorporated in his great 
work. Some of Mr. Moorhead's friends g-reatly 
regretted that the article on Erie county could not 
have been published entire just as it came 
from his pen; but the compiler and editor felt 
that the limits of his work required it to be curtail- 
ed ; and so a considerable portion of what was 
most interesting from a local point of view was 
omitted in order that that which was of larger gen- 
eral interest might be given. The account of the 
battle of Lake Erie as related in Mr. Moorhead's 
article is pronounced by Dr. Egle "the best and 
most lucid extant." 

The time spent by Mr. Moorhead in Ilarrisburg 
during the successive winters from 1868 to 1872 
was, in many respects, the most pleasant and fruit- 
ful portion of his life. It seemed to him like get- 
ting back to an old home, for it was the seat and re- 
gion of his ancestors of two or three generations be- 
fore. " Somehow I seem," he says, "to have sprung 
"from this region of country, and to have just nat- 
" urally gravitated back." He went strolling and 
driving about the country, visiting the old churches 
and church-yards, and the homesteads of his fam- 
ily of a former generation, looking on everything 
he saw, wood or stream or old stone house, 
as having in some way a mystic connection 
with himself. The mountains round about Ilar- 
risburg were a great delight to him, and he never 



34 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

was satisfied witli gazing at and admiring them. 
" How grand from the Capitol dome " — he breaks 
out in one place in his journal — " was the blue 
" tint of the long line of mountains stretching out 
^' to old Hanover! Life in this valley is pleasant." 
At another time he makes this record — a descrip- 
tion exhibiting the sense and touch of the true poet : 
^' Seated this evening on a rock at the foot of Wal- 
*' nut Street, I saw the sun sink behind the moun- 
" tains. The summer-looking clouds had the full 
" blush of the rose. The mountains were clear-cut 
" in their outline. Swallows twittered in the air. 
" The river was like molten gold. Two rafts 
" were floating down the stream. Dogs plunged 
" into the water to retrieve the sticks thrown in 
" by gleesome, happy boys. The young, the mid- 
'' die-aged and the old were out, and all was joy- 
" ous and pleasant. I wished so much for my little 
" family to see the beauty of the evening." 

One day in January, 1868, he made a pilgrimage 
to old Donegal Church, near Mount Joy, Lancaster 
county. His record of this visit is brief, and is 
well worth reproducing here both for its intrinsic 
interest and its merit as "a piece of fine description. 
" To-da3'as we started for old Donegal church '' — 
he had stayed over night at the house of a friend 
near by — " snow commenced to fall. But the 
^Hhree miles were soon passed, and we were upon 
" one of the old Moorhead farms, which embraced 
" a portion of the glebe farm and one hundred 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 35 

acres adjoining. Driving into a beautiful grove 
of magnificent oaks, we alighted and stood in 
front of old Donegal Church — the mother of all 
the Presbyterian churches west of the Delaware 
— dear to me as the spot where four generations 
of my ancestors had worshiped the God of their 
fathers. At the foot of the hill on which the 
church stood the famous Donegal spring gushed 
out from among the rocks, covering in a pool 
about an acre of ground, and then running off in 
a. broad stream toward the north. A wild rabbit 
jumped among the rocks as I descended the hill, 
and a trout darted out from under the gray gran- 
ite as I scooped up some water in my hand to car- 
ry to my lips. Procuring the keys to the church 
and of the church-yard gates at the sexton's 
house, we entered first the church. The buikling 
is of stone, *and was originallj^ like Hanover 
Church, but larger. But the accursed hand of 
improvement (?) had been laid upon it, and its 
interior and exterior had been modernized. The 
time-worn stone of the exterior had been cov- 
ered with a coat of plaster or mastic, the fine 
gothic windows and doors had been changed for 
square tops, and new doors and pews had been 
added. In the pulpit, on the floor, was a Bible, 
printed in Edinburgh in 1785. Mr. L. says the 
old pulpit was very high, and the preacher could 
scarcely be seen when standing up in it; the pews 
were also high, reaching above the heads of the 



S6 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

" people when seated. I went into the garret of 
" the church and looked over a box of old hymn 
" books and Testaments, with names written in 
" them by hands long since crumbled to dust. I 
" procured that which was more precious to me 
^' than the key of tlie Bastile at Mount Vernon — 
^' the old key of the church (size marked out on 
'^ the page, about seven inches long). * * * Un- 
" locking the iron gate we passed into the grave- 
^' yard. But the tombs, many of them, being cover- 
*' ed with flat stones and thickly bedded with snow 
" and ice, I discovered that no satisfaction would 
^' ensue to me this day in this ground.'' 

After one of the winters he spent at Harrisburg, 
Mr. Moorhead was induced, the following summer, 
to become a candidate for the Republican nomina- 
tion as member of the state House of Representa- 
tives. He was willing enough to have the possi- 
tion, an honorable and useful one, but he hated the 
ordeal through which he must pass in order to 
gain it. Office-seeking was utterly distasteful to 
him. With a good deal of reluctance, however, and 
a sense of lowering himself from a higher plane of 
Itfe, he finaly allowed his name to be brought for- 
ward. But " wire-pulling" he did not understand ; 
making promises to supporters was not in his line 
of things; buying votes in any form he would have 
nothing to do with. Such a politician was easily 
defeated by men who pursued unscrupulous me- 
thods and he was defeated accordingly. The next 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 37 

day he took his train toBufialo, no doubt, a happier 
man than he would have been had he gained what 
he seemed to seek. The hundreds who knew his 
worth and ability deeply regreted that a man of 
such fine qualifications for the post of representa. 
tive could not have been nominated and elected. 
But such is too often the case when men of his stamp 
leave their quiet pursuits to seek office at the hands 
of the people. 

In the year 1867, just before going to Harris- 
burg for the first time, Mr. Moorhead being in- 
clined to invest some of his surplus means in trade, 
purchased an interest in the bookstore of Caughey, 
McCreary & Co., the new partnership taking the 
firm name of Caughey, McCreary & Moorhead. 
For several years the business was quite pros- 
perous; though Mr. Moorhead was not able to 
give at any time much personal attention to its 
management. It suflFered considerably from the 
pressure of the hard times that followed the mon- 
ey panic of 1873, and was finally wound up honor- 
ably in 1877 — the remainder of the stock being 
purchased by Messrs. Allen & Brewer. 

In 1876, the famous '^ Centennial Year " of the 
country, a movement was set on foot for securing 
in the various counties of the State histories from 
the earliest period down to the current year. The 
Historical Society of Erie county selected three 
persons to prepare such a history for the county, 
assigning a certain division of the work to each. 



3S ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

To Capt. ]Sr. W. Russell was assigned the prepara- 
tion of that part of the history beginning with the 
year 1820; to Capt. Win. Dobbins that part per- 
taining to the first twenty years of the century, thus 
including the important period of the war of 1812. 
To Mr. Moorhead fell the task of preparing a his- 
tory of the region of countr}^, lying along the 
south shore of Lake Erie, including the county 
of Erie, during the period preceding the opening 
of the present century. This service falling di- 
rectly in the line of his tastes, and of his studies 
for many years, he willingly undertook it. With 
his usual care and thoroughness he produced a 
historical essay of great merit, setting forth clearly 
and comprehensively all the facts that could be 
gathered of the times of the Indian, French and 
English occupation of the region bordering the 
lake, and of the establishment here of the first act- 
ual settlers. The article, which was never publish- 
ed by the society, will be found in its proper place 
in this volume. 

A sketch of Mr. Moorhead's life and character 
would not be complete without some reference to 
the humorous side of him. His sense of the ludi- 
crous, and his love of what was witty and droll, 
were strongly developed. A peculiar phase of this 
was his power of mimicrj^ and representation in 
character. He could imitate the Negro lingo and 
the Irish brogue and manner to perfection, and go 
through with the lisping and stammering absurdi- 



ISAAC MOOREEAD. S9 

ties of "Lord Dundreary'" in a style quite equal to 
the orio^iual of that famous character. Modest to 
a degree, and often reserved and reticent in gener- 
al company, he was yet the very soul of the so- 
cial circle to which he belonged. 

This circle, or coterie, was so much a part of him 
and he of it, that it deserves some special mention. 
It was not a mere loose section of general society, 
indefinite in numbers ; nor was it one of those asso- 
ciations that are held together by the ligatures of 
constitution and by-laws — meeting periodically and 
going through a certain program of exercises pre- 
scribed beforehand. The members of the circle 
simply gravitated together by some law, as it were, 
of affinity or attraction. They did not meet week- 
ly, nor monthly, but whenever it pleased one of their 
number, or a pair of them — for they were mostly 
married people with homes of their own — to call 
them together. A supper was always a part of the 
entertainment; though the '^Aneke Jans'' (for so 
they called themselves, oddly enough,) depended 
more on the "feast of reason and the flow of sou?' 
for their entertainment than on the luxuries of 
the*table. General talk, raillery, telling of stories, 
readings, recitations, certain games or humorous 
exercises of speech rather than of action, con- 
stituted the performances or pastimes on these oc- 
casions. The company never exceeded twenty five 
in number; while the original members, who held 



1^0 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

to the organization through all the period of its ex- 
istence, were but fourteen. 

None of the. coterie ever enjoyed the meetings 
more, or contributed more to the pleasure of the 
rest, than Mr. Moorhead. lie thus gratified a crav- 
ing of his nature as much as he gratified his appe- 
tite when he partook of necessary food. His fine 
powers of imitation; the ease and naturalness with 
which he could read in character; the unsurpassed 
talent he had for story-telling; his fine appreciation 
of the performances of others and his whole-hearted 
and joyous laugh when the "nub" of the story or 
the point of the joke was brought out — all served 
to render him the one member of the party whose 
presence seemed a necessity, and his apprehended 
absence a sufiS.cient reason for postponing a gather- 
ing of the clan. Yet he never assumed any super- 
ior ability nor importance. Modest almost to a 
fault, he never would submit to anything that seem- 
ed like being "shown oflF". Unlike many great 
story-tellers and fluent talkers, he did not monop- 
olize attention, but was equally as ready to listen 
as to speak ; and, witty as he was, and quick at re- 
partee, he would rather sacrifice his jest than hurt 
the feelings of a friend. 

Mr. Moorhead's literary taste was of the high- 
est order. As one of his early and near friends, 
a clergyman of such ability and culture as to give 
weight to his judgment, once said of him; "His 
was one of the most refined natures I ever knew. 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. J^l 

Very rare indeed is it to find a man whose taste in 
literature and in all other matters of an aesthetic 
character is so pure and faultless/' This relined 
literary taste was shown in the books he most de- 
lighted in. Cooper, Irving, Hawthorne, Thoreau, 
Charlotte Bronte, Sir Walter Scott, were among 
his favorite authors, and some of their works he 
read over and over again. Some choice books, in- 
deed, he made it a point to read every year. One 
of these was Alexander Smith's ''A Summer in 
Sk3'e"; another, Thoreau's *'Cape Cod" (his copy of 
this is marked and scored in hundreds of places); 
still another was Charlotte Bronte's 'Jane Eyre." 
Later in life, as already remarked, his tastes took 
an antiquarian turn and he found great interest in 
tracing the history of his ancestors. He had also 
made a considerable collection of rare and early 
histories of certain communities and settlements. 

For one who had not devoted himself specially to 
literature, he was a very clear and efi'ective writer. 
There was no affectation in his style, and none of 
the stiffness of many practical and learned writers. 
He seemed to have imbibed the spirit of some 
of the authors he read in early life, as Irving 
and Cooper, and without intending it fell into their 
lucid and pleasant style. But perhaps it is better 
to say that he wrote clearly and well, because he 
thought clearly, and followed the bent of his own 
well balanced mind. 

What Mr. Moorhead did in a literary way for 



Jt2 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

the public, was fully equalled by his private corres- 
pondence. Here he was perfectly at home — his 
thoughts flowing freely and naturally, and in lan- 
guage and style the most graceful and charming. 
Words from the alembic of his brain were like 
colors to the eye ; they made a picture clear, sym- 
metrical and natural — nothing about it monstrous 
or misshapen. It would be pleasant to give ex- 
tracts from some of his many letters; but his gen- 
eral observations are so interwoven with thinsrs of 
a personal and private character, that propriety 
forbids their insertion here. 

He never attempted to write poetry, nor affected 
anything ambitious, sentimental nor grand, — was 
quite too genuine and sincere for anything of that 
kind. In his reading he was not so fond of poetry, 
even of the highest order, as of fine prose; though 
the best descriptive poetry — some of Bryant's, for 
example, some of Whittier's, and portions of Cow- 
per's ''Task'', he read and re-read. For a number 
of years in the latter part of his life he was accus- 
tomed , every ^ew Year's day, to meet with an in- 
timate friend at the house of one of them, when 
they would read together the introductory part of 
the " Winter Morning Walk." His keen apprecia- 
tion of fine natural scenery, and his love of country 
life, made this fine descriptive piece of Cowper's 
particularly pleasing to him. 

Mr. Moorhead never felt inclined to withdraw 
permanently from his business on the railroad, 



ISAAG MOORHEAD. 43 

though in the later yeavs he must have perceived 
in himself evidences of impaired health. The life 
on the train had a charm for him that his friends 
never could quite account for. More than once, 
easier and more lucrative positions were offered 
him by the railroad authorities; but these involved 
office work and greater responsibility, and he de- 
clined them. Perhaps the principal reason he had 
for clinging to his old place was that his responsi- 
bility and care were limited simply to the twelve 
or fourteen hours a day that he was on the road or 
in Buffldo. From the minute he stepped off the 
platform of his train in the evening till he stepped 
on it again in the morning he was his own master; 
and few as the intervening waking hours were, 
they were sacred to his home, his family and his 
friends, his precious books and his literary work. 
And when a man has devoted nearly all the years 
of his manhood to one pursuit with success, and 
to the satisfaction of himself and all others inter- 
ested, he is not generally disposed to enter upon a 
new course of business or try a new mode of life. 
It was a surprise therefore to Mr. Moorhead, and 
not a matter of his own seeking, when he was ten- 
dered the position of Post Master at Erie in the 
Autumn of 1879. Doubtless he had felt that his 
health was giving way, and that he needed a long 
period of rest and recuperation. Whether rest 
was likely to come to him in the new office might 
well have have been a question. 



JfJf ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

After the appointment was made be gave him- 
self at once and with all earnestness and fidelity to 
making himself thoroughly acquainted with its 
duties. The effort made to defeat his confirmation 
ill the Senate was a source of great annoyance to 
him. The falsehoods and misrepresentations with 
which he was assailed and pursued ^vore on him 
greatl}^ He nevertheless kept on in the quiet and 
faithful discharge of his official duties ; and event- 
ually not only the Senate, but the whole com- 
munity concerned, with great unanimity, con- 
firmed the choice made by the President. 

Accustomed to rise early from necessity for 
many years, he could not, had he so wished, have 
shaken off the habit. He made a practice there- 
fore for a considerable period after he became 
Postmaster of going to the office before breakfast 
and looking into all the details of the work — the 
making up of the early mails, the assorting of the 
letters for the carriers, &c. This perhaps was quite 
unnecessary, but he did not feel satisfied without 
becoming personally acquainted with whatever was 
done in the office and the manner of doing it. 
All this worry and work and constant confinement, 
from the very day he received his commission, 
soon affected his health. 

As early as October or November 1879 he suf- 
fered a slight paralysis of his right arm and side, 
disabling him from writing and the free use of his 
arm for several weeks. Eecovering to all appear- 



ISAAC MOOBIIEAD. J^5 

arice from this attack during the following winter, 
there was still to the eyes of his nearest friends a 
want at times of the old-time vivacity and hearti- 
ness. A shadow seemed to be upon him, and 
what, in a man ten or fifteen years older, w^ould 
have seemed tokens of approaching age. But du- 
ring nearly the whole of the year 1880, he was 
quite his natural self,— giving himself, however, 
far too little relaxation, and attending closely to 
the duties of his office. In many respects it 
seemed to be a quiet and restful year to him. He 
had made but few changes in the working force of 
the office; he had fallen quickly and easily into 
the routine circle of duties that belonged to him ; 
he attended promptly to all letters of inquiry or 
complaint. Kothing was neglected; and he soon 
gained the reputation of being an attentive, capable 
and accommodating officer. Yet with it all he was 
able to spend many a pleasant hour in his much 
loved home ; and there seemed to be a fair prom- 
ise of many years of peaceful yet active and useful 
life before him. But the unwonted confinement, 
perhaps, or the bad air of the Post Office, or the 
gradual progress of a disease of the spinal chord 
induced by the jar, jar, jar, of almost thirty years 
upon a railroad train, — one of these causes or all 
of them combined, began, in the latter part of the 
year 1880, to show in a niarked degree their bale- 
ful effect upon his health. 

Those of his friends who met him daily saw but 



J^6 ISAAC MOORBEAD. 

little change in him, only noting that he was more 
qniet and reticent than was his wont, that there 
was less elasticity in his step and that he had 
less liveliness of manner and thought. His strength 
failed very slowly but steadily. People who saw 
him at the Christmas time — a season that was al- 
ways a happy one with him, and which he never 
allowed to pass in his home without being duly 
and cheerily observed — and not again till April, 
were greatly struck with the change that had come 
upon him. The medical treatment he received du- 
ring the winter seemed to give but little relief. 
The long-continued cold weather tried him greatly, 
and he had lost much of his strength ; but he still 
attended to the duties of his office, generally re- 
maining at home, however, during the afternoons. 
He longed for the return of the warmth and fresh- 
ness of spring, and the rising again of nature from 
its long, dead sleep, and spoke of the bright June 
weather as something that would certainly bring 
new life to him. 

Having been advised by his physician to try the 
virtues of the "magnetic waters" so called at Eaton 
Rapids, Mich., and the treatment there given to 
invalids, lie went to Dr. Hale's "Medical Sanitari- 
um" at that place, accompanied by his wife, early 
in May. The promise of improvement was very 
flattering at first, but it was delusive. Vital or- 
gans, the heart and brain, were deeply aflected, and 
he gradually wasted away. Death came peacefully 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. p 

at eleven o'clock on Saturday the 4th of June, and 
one of the noblest and bravest of spirits passed 
from the earth, rising to the immortality that God 
has made sure to all his trusting children. 

At such a time, argument for the immortal life 
seems ahnost an impertinence. The fact simply 
asserts itself — dead matter, immortal spirit; one 
stage of being closed, another and higher one be- 
gun. To this our intuitions and aspirations, rein- 
forced by divine revelation, point us irrisistibly. 
How very fitting to quote here on this subject the 
language of him whose death has just been recorded, 
taken from a letter of his that will appear in anoth- 
er place: ''Again and again since we met you last", 
he writes, " we have passed 'black mile stones' 
"in our journey of life. Death has called us away 
"from the train and we have accompanied one and 
"another dear friend to the water's edge. We 
"have asked those shining ones that stood upon 
"the other side of the river, 'If a man die shall he 
"live again ? ' and they have answered us : ' I am 
"the resurrection and the life,' saith the Lord: 
" 'He that believeth in me, though he were dead, 
"yet shall he live ; and whosoever liveth and be- 
"lieveth in me shall. never die.' We have turned 
"back to the busy scenes of life, purified some- 
"what, we trust, by the fires of affliction ; and in 
"the long night hours on the train we think of th^ 
"pure and upright example left us as a rich legacy 
"by him who has passed away forever; and we 



1,8 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 



-it' 



"think of her whose sun went down in the morn- 
"ing of her days. * * * ^Ye have not felt like 
''writing of hite, but rather like passing on quietly 
"with the throng until beckoned by the silent 
"messenger to the shores of the great river." 
Sustained by a faith thus strongly affirmed did 
Isaac Moorhead pass through the shadows of the 
dark valley and across the river to the immortal 
fields beyond. 

Although the worst was apprehended by many 
of his friends when he left home, yet it was with 
a shock of surprise and grief that they received 
the intelliofence of his death. Had the wasting:, 
flickering and final going out of the lamp of life 
taken place in their presence, they could have re- 
alized more fully the approach of the sad event, 
and when it came it would have seemed less sud- 
den and distressing. As it was, they were im- 
pressed as with a hopeless personal bereavement. 
A part of their life seemed to be snatched away 
from them, and they were left wildly groping in 
the dark to find it again. 

The immediate family of Mr. Moorhead, con- 
sisting of his wife, daughter and son, were with 
him in his last hours, and returned directly to 
their desolate home, arriving on Sunday evening. 
The funeral took place on the following Monday 
afternoon, June 6th, at 4 o'clock. The attendance 
of relatives and friends was very large. All the 
lower rooms of the house and the hall-way w^ere 



ISAAC MOOREEAD. j^g 

filled, while hundreds stood without, unable to 
gain admittance. And looking over this company, 
one could not but be struck with the fact that the 
large proportion of those who stood around were 
not of the people who attend funerals from mere 
curiosity, or from . .'Aorbid desire to gaze on the 
sad prQc< , ..\ j of mourning relatives; but substan- 
tial ana tiloughtful men, who had turned aside 
from their business for an hour, that they might 
thus testify their respect for the deceased and their 
sense of loss, and show their sympathy with his 
bereaved family. There was an entire absence of 
any attempt at show or parade. The coffin was a 
plain one, covered with black cloth, with silver 
mountings, and bearing on a silver plate the sim- 
ple inscription : 

ISAAC MOORHEAD, 

Age 63. 

On the ,foot of the casket lay a beautiful floral 
cross, the gift of a friend. Resting near the center 
was a wreath or circle of white flowers and green 
leaves, broken in one point, and bearing the letters 
" A.' J." This was a testimonial from a few of the 
former intimate friends of Mr. Moorhead, and the 
device was intended to represent that the circle 
was at last broken. Still another impressive floral 
representation was a broken column standing at 
the head of the coffin, and bearing the words, 
*' Our Chief" — the appropriate gift of the gentle- 



50 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

men composing the post office force. These, 
headed by Deputy Postmaster Kellogg, just before 
the opening of the services, marched from the post 
office in a body, and, tiling through the room in 
which their dead chief lay, took a last look at the 
face of him whom they had learned to love so well. 

The funeral services were conducted by Rev. J. T. 
Franklin, of St. Paul's Episcopal Church, in a very 
solemn and impressive manner. Mrs. Carter and 
Mr. Shacklett, assisted by otljer members of the 
church choir, sang with touching effect the hymn be- 
ginning, "I would not live alway, I ask not to stay," 
and also the chant entitled, " Thy will be done." 

The pall-bearers were from among the long-time 
intimate friends of Mr. Moorhead and his family, 
namely, John Eliot, Robert W. Russell, William 
S. Brown, A. H. Caughey, Joseph Mc Carter and 
Thomas H. Carroll. A very large number of rel- 
atives were present, including Mr. Moorhead's sis- 
ters, Mrs. Stone, wife of the Lieutenant Governor, 
Mrs. Derickson, widow of the late Charles Derick- 
son of Meadville, and Mrs. Calvin Leet of Har- 
borcreek. The sad rites were concluded at the 
grave in the presence of many hundreds of people ; 
and if there ever were sincere regret and unfeigned 
sorrow for one departed, it was when the mortal re- 
mains of Isaac Moorhead — the unselfish friend, the 
faithful public officer, the true-hearted man and 
citizen, the kind husband and father — sank into 
the bosom of the all-receiving earth, while the sol- 



ISAAC MOORIIEAB. 51 

emn but hopeful words of the committal service 
sounded in the ears of that silently weeping throng. 



Among the many letters addressed to Mrs. Moor- 
head on the occasion of lier liusband's death, one 
from his life-long friend, Gen. McCreary, so well 
represents the feelings of his intimate friends, and 
is withal so fitting a tribute to his worth and manly 
character, that it is given entire below : 

Annapolis, June 5, 1881. 
" Dear Mrs. Moorhead. 

I have deferred writing till this evening, 
hoping that in some way I might get home in time 
to be present when Isaac will be laid to rest, but 
I have hoped against hope. In no way could I get 
away from here so as to reach home before Tues- 
day at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, which I feared 
would be too late. Indeed lam so confused and be- 
wildered at what has happened in the few short days 
since I last saw him that I can scarcely trust myself 
to attempt to do anything. I do not try to reconcile 
myself to the thought that when I go home I shall 
not see him to tell him what I have seen while 
away, just as I used to do, and in which he always 
took so much interest; but my mind will not be 
reconciled, for I cannot fully comprehend that he 
is forever gone. I have lived a good many years 
and have had many friends and relatives of the 
nearest tie taken away, but not one or all of them 



52 ISAAC MOOREEAD. 

have taken away so much of myself, so much of 
my ever}^ clay life with them as has Isaac in his 
death. To me, going home witliout expecting to 
see hin is like going to a strange and unwelcome 
land, and I really have no heart nor desire to go. 

^' For thirty-five years and more, indeed all of my 
life that I know much of, I have known Isaac as I 
knew, I may safely say, no other. So trusting and 
intimate was our friendship during all this time 
that I never had a plan or a purpose or even a 
secret that I either did not or was not willins: to 
confide to him, with the most absolute assurance 
that it would be received by him and most sacredly 
kept. I never saw the day or the moment, and 
I believe he felt the same towards me, that he 
would not have sacrificed his own interests and 
his comfort, if by so doing he could have promoted 
mine. Do not be surprised then when I say that 
his death has made the future to me unreal and un- 
certain ; for where is another to make so much of my 
existence as he did ? 

"Just before I left home I saw Max, who told me 
that his father seemed better, and I went away 
feeling that when I returned I would find him in 
his old place, well and cheerful, and that we would 
tell each other many things that would interest us 
both. When I saw by the paper that he was very 
ill, I forced myself to believe that it would be but 
temporary, but when I received the telegram from 
Max that he was dead, I was unnerved and over- 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 53 

come. I handed it to the members of my family 
who were with me and we could not speak to each 
other about it, it was so overwhelming to us all. 
I should not have trusted myself to write you at 
this time, for my thoughts are not under my con- 
trol, and I cannot say what I wish to say. I will 
not attempt to use language to encourage yourself 
and your family to become reconciled; only this, 
that when one dies who was at peace with every 
one, and who so fully believed and trrsted in the 
eternal truths of the great hereafter, and in the 
sustaining doctrines of the Christian faith, as did 
Isaac, then for his sake and for yours you should 
feel that it is all well and for the best. Some time 
when we both feel like talking upon the subject 
of his death I want to hear some of the circum- 
stances of his last hours. Little indeed did I think 
when I saw him just before he left that I would be 
sitting here in this strange phice writing to you as 
I have done. Accept it in the spirit in which it is 
written and believe me most deeply and sincerely 

Your friend, 

D. B. McCreary." 

One of Mr. Moorhead's old friends at the sea- 
shore. Rev. H. G. Storer, a member of the house- 
hold in which Mr. Moorhead at difierent times had 
spent many delightful weeks, writes thus tenderly: 

"Dear Mr. C. — Your sad note is received; and 
my heart aches with yours. You write that Mr. 



5Jf. ISAA C MO ORE BAD. 

Moorliead was broken down in health before he 
left, the raih'oad ; but till the reception of your 
note, I had alwaj's supposed him to be remarkably 
free from all ills of the flesh. I thought so be- 
cause he can\e of a long-lived race — because his 
habits were so regular and unexceptionable — be- 
cause his spirits were so equable and cheerful — 
because he had no burden of debts and no load of 
cankering care to wear him out, but seemed al- 
ways so young and fresh both in mind and body 
and heart, and was so genial and friendly atid 
good that everybody must have wished that he 
would never die. * * * 

"Most truly do we all in this household here 
sympathize with you, and with Mrs. M. . and her 
children, in view of the loss which 3'ou so justly call 
'irreparable'; for there is not one of us that did not 
admire and love him. This dwelling will always 
seem the brighter and more sacred to us, because 
it has been time and again lit up by his most wel- 
come and cherished presence ; and a cloud hangs 
over it to-day, and over our hearts as well, because 
our fond hope that he would come back here once 
more has now perished forever. What can we 
say about it, and what can you or any of his lovers 
say, but this one word to our Father in Heaven 
(before whom, as our Lord has testified, 'not even a 
sparrow is forgotten') 'not as we would, but as thou 
wilt.' Standing on that rock, Faith can submit in 
meek silence. Through that most precious faith, 



ISAAC MOORHEAD. 55 

may God comfort you and keep us all in the peace 
of God, till the shadows flee away, and the light of 
the eternal Sabbath shall shine upon a world in which 
there shall be no more sin, nor tears, nor death." 

To the column of Notes ^ Queries in a Pennsyl- 
vania journal, Dr. W. H. Egle, author of the his- 
tory of Pennsylvania, contributes a brief biograph- 
ical sketch of Mr. Moorhead. From this the fol- 
lowing paragraph is taken: 

"An intimate friend for years we can bear tes- 
timony to Mr. Moorhead's scholarly accomplish- 
ments. We are in possession of a number of his 
articles, which go to show depth of thought, power 
of description, and that artistic effect which a 
gentleman of letters can alone acquire. In his- 
toric research he was deeply interested, and the 
citizens of Erie are indebted to him for many 
pleasant reminiscences of their city, over the signa- 
ture of ' John Ashbough.' He wrote for the Cen- 
tennial year a Historical review of Erie county, 
and was the author of the Erie county sketch 
in Egle's History of Pennsylvania, which contains 
the best and most lucid account of Perry's Battle 
on Lake Erie extant. In the performance of a 
great duty, he prepared a genealogy of his own 
and allied lamilies; and few in our State possessed 
as full knowledge as he of the French occupation 
of Western Pennsylvania. He had made this sub- 
ject one of study and research, and it was confi- 
dently expected that in due time the results of his 



56 ISAAC MOORHEAD. 

iiivestio^ation would liave been given to us. He 
was much interested in our Notes ^ Queries, for 
they related to the homes of his ancestors — to them, 
their neighbors and friends. But the deeds of men 
live after them, and the memory of the good shall 
be preserved for ages. With a geniality and amia- 
bility few possess — faitliful, honest and true— our 

friend Moorhead has passed to his reward." 

w. H. E. 



At the monthly meeting of the Dauphin County 
(Pa.) Historical Society, held June 9th, 1881, on 
motion of Rev. Dr. Robinson, the following was 
unanimously ordered to be placed upon the records 
of the society : 

''The members of the Dauphin County Histori- 
cal Society having heard of the sudden death of 
their former fellow member and friend, Mr. Isaac 
Moorhead, of Erie, Pa., would put on record their 
sense of his high worth as a man and a friend, and 
would bear testimony to his deep interest, especi- 
ally in historical researches. His genial and gen- 
tlemanly bearing, and his unquestionable integ- 
rity in all the relations of life, had won for him 
universal respect and confidence. We tender to 
his widow and family assurances of our sympathy 
in their great bereavement. 

A. Boyd Hamilton, President. 

T. H. Robinson, Cor. Sec." 



^ " 



SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 



* THE *'NIC0DEMUS NIGHTSHADE" LETTERS. 

I. 

The Night Express East. 

Oh! said I to Paul, is not this glorious? How 
matters have changed with us since we worked 
too-ether in that other Land on the — let me see — I 
think it was the Lake Shore road. Kail road Com- 
panies are all honest here. No secret agents are 
required to note the doings of each other — my oc- 
cupation is gone. We have a uniform gauge all 
over this glorious land — perpetual summer here 
— no standing out all the weary hours of the long, 
long night, on a bleak embankment, with broken 
wheels and axles, in the blinding snow and chilly 
winds from the lake. We have no stops to make 
for supper and then headlong speed to regain lost 
time — but we have a car with a table always set 
and loaded (our tables do not groan in this country) 



* These letters were written in the year 1859, and publish- 
ed in the Erie Observer. 



58 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 

with all that cnn plcnse the eye and delight the 
taste, and then we have ^' screider " that was Jiot 
made in ISTew Jersey, and cigars that never were 
near Conneaut. We have a double track all over 
this new country ; no wooden bridges; our pass- 
age is noiseless and fleet as the wind. Cattle and 
horses, if there are any here, are not allowed to 
roam at large, and we cross no roads at grade. 
We have coaches of incomparable convenience 
anid splendor, and we — Paul and Nicodemus — re- 
ceive five thousand a year. I am appointed by 
the Superintendent of the road to accompany Paul 
in order to remonstrate with the delighted passen- 
gers against the impropriety of paying their fare 
twice over to Paul. All this is very pleasant; but 
there came to our ears a noise — 

"As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber 

door. 
" 'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, ' tapping at my chamber 

door — 

Only this and nothing more.' " 
I opened my eyes and discovered Paul lighting 
the gas. The rapping of the night watchman had 
rou.sed me — my dream had vanished. 1 w^as again 
the secret agent. It was one o'clock and in half 
an hour we would take the Night Express East. 

Paul opened the door for the watchman who came 
in and said, " Boj^s, I have some bad news for you ; 

there has been a terrible accident. Tom G , 

the Conductor on the Central, has been killed on 
his own train.*' Paul and I turned and looked at 



THE NIGHT EXPRESS EAST. 59 

each other a minute without speaking, but the 
heart was busy with its memories. But yesterday 
we had seen him in all the buoyancy of life and 
hope, and now— could it be possible he had passed 
throuirh the dark valley? We had known him 
well for many years, and all that was noble and 
generous had a home in his breast. Often had he 
waited in the depot at Buffalo far in the night, 
after a long and tiresome ride from Syracuse, for 
Paul and me to appear to commend some destitute 
and unfortunate fellow-creature to our care, and 
then with a friendly grasp of the hand and a pleas- 
ant word at parting, he would turn his weary foot- 
steps to the hotel. A tear to your memory, poor 
Tom, and may God deal gently with the loved 
ones you have left to fight life's hard battles alone. 
Paul turned to me and repeated, '' Be ye also ready, 
for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of 
Man cometh;" and then the whistle sounded from 
the West, and we walked on the platform with full 
hearts, to take the '' Night Express East.'' * * * 
Have you never noticed those little hurried con- 
ferences between Conductors, on leaving and taking 
a train? Conductor from the west reports hurriedly 
and says, "Heavy train to-night, hard crowd, two 
coaches of raftsmen mostly drunk. You'll find a 
Jew who says he has no money. I ' pulled ' him — 
take him — he has plenty of soap. There is a 
sprinkling of cripples, deaf and dumb,&c. There are 
two Cincinnati pick-pockets aboard — we watched 



60 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CABS. 

them close. They won't try to operate before 
reaching Dunkirk." The whistle sounds, and off we 
go. First we enter the baggage-car. Baggageman 
sits in chair smoking his meerschaum. — Express 
Messenger has a bed of w ,ags with Wanket 
spread on his safe for a pillow. — Rout, ^''t with 
through mail from Cincinnati to New "York sleeps 
heavily on his mail-bags which are piled on that long 
box. Baggage-man hands us a ticket — points to 
box under Route Agent and simply says "corpse." 
We pass into second class car, I walking ahead 
carrying lamp. We find an Irish woman wildly 
weeping. In answer to our interrogatory, what is 
the matter?— she answers, "Oh! my baby, my* 
baby is dead." We hold the lamp close and place 
our hand upon its cold face and discover that it is 
indeed dead. She had laid it down to sleep on a 
vacant seat, and because it rested quietly she did 
not disturb it, until, taking it up, to her horror, 
she discovered it was dead. When she became 
somewhat composed we learned her history, which 
is, in a measure, that of many others we have met 
since the money panic of 1857. Her husband was 
a mechanic; and work failing in Newark, N. J., 
(their home) they went to Chicago in hope of bet- 
tering their condition. Here matters were still 
worse. Vainly seeking for labor, and their means 
being well nigh exhausted, the husband returned 
to Newark and left the wife sick in Chicago with 
barely means sufficient to purchase a second-class 



THE NIGHT EXPEESS EAST. 61 

ticket to Jersey City and follow when her infant 
was sufficiently old to bear the fatigue of travel. 
She had not a shilling. We offered to bury her 
child decently at Buffalo and send her on to her 
husband, but she clung to it convulsively, and an- 
nounced her determination to carry the dead infant 
to her husband in J^ewark. We saw her safe 
aboard the H<n*nellsville train at Buffalo, and pro- 
vided her with sufficient means to procure food 
until her arrival at home. The other occupants 
of the car gazed on the woman with a sort of mute 
wonder or stolid indifference, and although there 
were several women, and some of her own nation, 
in that car, whom we besought personalh% yet not 
one of them went to offer a word of consolation to 
tliis afflicted mother. 

We pass into the next coach and our ears are 
saluted with those well known sounds which indi- 
cate the presence of whooping cough. Paul, look- 
ing soberly at me, enquires, *' Nicodemus, have you 
had the infantile diseases — such as whooping-cough, 
mumps, measles, &c.?" I answer yes. A queer 
fellow sitting at my elbow says, in a melo-dramatic 
style, " 'Tis well," and, raising his finger, points to 
the children who are laboring under the aforesaid 
diseases. Here is a well known countenance, point- 
ed out to us years ago by a policeman as that of a 
pick-pocket. That moustache and beard of his are 
false. A countryman is sitting in a seat with hira. 
When Paul takes his ticket, he calls out, loud and 



62 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 

clear, " Passengers are warned against a pick- 
pocket now in this car." Pick-pocket gets up in a 
few moments, and, remarking to his neighbor that 
he does not deem it safe to remain with such com- 
pany in tliis coach, moves into the second class car. 

Next we find a German in a deep sleep under 
the influence of plentiful potations of 'Mager." 
After much effort we succeed in waking him. He 
does not seem to understand anything about our 
request for a ticket, but informs us that he is going 
to Erie. When we succeed in makins: him com- 
prehend the fact that we have passed Erie, and 
that the train will not stop until we reach West- 
field, and that he cannot get a glass of lager with- 
in a mile of the depot at Westfield, our German 
jumps up and down, beats his head with his hand, 
and saj's, ^' Yeokup, doo beest von tam fool." 

There is rather a pretty face in that double seat. 
It has been seen on this line of travel for years. It 
is a sort of shuttlecock between the battledores 
of New York and Cincinnati, and comes and goes 
almost with the regularity of the route agents. 
The owner of that pretty face has interested an inno- 
cent-looking young man by her ''winning ways". 
He pays her fare to Bufi:alo, and their acquaintance 
and friendship is cemented. She is one of the mul- 
titude of her class that travel up and down this 
great thoroughfare capturing such noodles as that 
— one of those ''whose pathway is down to death"; 
and unless some vision of the good and pure of that 



TEE NIGHT EXPRESS EAST. 63 

home which he has left far away rises between them, 
she and her companions will lead him downward in 
that horrible course which, persisted in, blights and 
kills the body and damns the soul. It is not pleas- 
ant to weave threads of this color in my rough web, 
but they are so very numerous I could not fail to 
notice them. 

Very small boj^ travelling alone with a card sew- 
ed on his cap, containing the following, written in 
a plain hand, '^Conductors please inform this boy 
of the changes of cars and dining stations. He 

goes to No. street, Providence, R. I., 

and is ticketed through." In questioning said boy 
we found the card a superfluity, he knowing all 
about the route, the changes, etc., much better than 
the majority of passengers. He knew that tick- 
et carried him over the ''six foot road," and that 
he changed cars at Dunkirk, and all that sort of 
thing. In conversation we found him well posted 
and fast. The reason of this precocity was very 
evident when he informed us that he had been vis- 
iting a year in Chicago. Sitting with him in the 
seat was a young lady with a guitar case beside 
her, bare arms of the thin blue order, very sharp 
elbows, sash on her neck, hair curling, of course, 
black ribbon around her neck, pencil, locket, and 
piece of Atlantic cable attached to it, and all pre- 
sided over by a meaningless looking face, which 
was almost buried in a copy of the ISTew York Led- 
ger. She was bound for '^Sirikuice^'. 



6^ SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CABS. 

Here a loving couple occupy a seat together. 
Most persons would suppose that they sustain some 
near relation to each other. May be they do — but 
it is a little odd that the man's ticket was pur- 
chased in Chicago, and the woman's in Louisville. 
Next seat — the old story — lady had pocket picked 
at Columbus, lost money, tickets and all. The 
other conductor informed us of this matter. All 
right — pass on. Another woman. *' What's the 
fare to Dunkirk?" One dollar forty. She hands out 
a counterfeit V. which of course we decline — then 
a broken bank bill of same denomination, which 
is also refused. She affects much surprise. Her 
husband couldn't have known it was bad, &c. I 
knew her husband — there are many such as he. 
She was going to Binghamton and would doubtless 
make the entire trip there and return without the 
cost of a dime. The conductor wouldn't put a wom- 
an off the cars, especially with a little child, oh no ! 

Man hands us a paper which reads, "Pass the 
Editor of the Pehelia, Kansas, Republican over 
the [N'orth Missouri R. R.," &c. Paul informs him 
that we cannot recognize the pass. After consid- 
erable talk he indignantly demands the amount of 
the fare to Westfield and pays it, and shortly after- 
wards enquires of a brakeman the name of that 
Conductor — looks daggers at us as we pass and re- 
pass through the train — will not call said Conduc- 
tor "gentlemanly and courteous" in the next issue, 
but will pronounce the whole tribe of them "im- 



CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 65 

pertinent — stuck np," &c., Suddenly remembers 
that he has received no check. Seeing me pass and 
supposing me to be part of the institution, he de- 
mands a check. I inform him that I am not the 
Conductor, I am Nicodemus — but that he does not 
need a check, for he stops at the first way station. 
Rising to his feet he says excitedly — that makes no 
difference — he has traveled, he has, and wants to 
know what he will have to shoiv if fare is again de- 
manded. Fellow sitting a few seats behind says : 
^'Show yourself for an ass, just as you have done 
all the way from St.. Louis." Editor turns around 
fiercely and seems to recognize the speaker — sits 
down, grumbles to himself something about the 
ingratitude of railroads — the press warming them 
into life and then they (the roads) viper-like, &c. 
&c. Fellow behind replies, ^'IS^ot much warming 
received from you. Last year you were taking 
daguerreotypes, and this year you are peddling 
sewing-machines through Missouri and trying to 
pass as an editor, when you ain't anything but 
a correspondent for an abolition paper in Kansas." 



II. 

Cincinnati Express. 

It is 10 o'clock in the morning, the hour that 
Paul and I ordinarily rise to breakfast. When we 
come in on the Night Express we take a quiet 



66 SOME TETNQS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 

sleep extending far into tlie morning, and Wilhel- 
mina prevails on our landlady to muflBe the door- 
bell lest it should disturb us, while she sits within 
view of the front door to receive her visitors and 
ours. At the breakfast table, if we have met any 
particular characters on the train the night before, 
we make our adventures with them and their pecul- 
iarities the staple of conversation. Wilhelmina 
then gives us our errand list in Buftalo for to-mor- 
row morning. ''Mrs. Bomblejar is going to give a 
party, and wants a box of lemons — ditto of oranges, 
three dozens of pine-apples, ^c. &c. — Mrs. Thick- 
broom did not get- enough silk for her dress 
at Griswold's — he has sold the balance of piece — 
here is a sample — try and find two yards like it in 
Buffalo. Miss Chickweed wishes us to go out to 
Oakland's and get the verbenas in pots she looked 
at last week. You know, says Wilhelmina (a little 
wickedl}^), that you can take a ^buss — to Cold Spring 
— and then you'll have but aboutfour or five squares 
to walk, and you can ride back. Old Mr. Winkle 
wants you to go to Matthew's, and get a box of 
Slambang's All-Killing Ointment, and a bottle of 
Donebrown's Hair Exterminator. Mrs. Yorke left 
this memorandum of articles, and wishes you to 
leave the order at Barnum's to be filled and sent 
home by express, and, like a true lady that she is, 
encloses par funds to pay the bill. The balance, 
Paul, you will have the extreme satisfaction of pay- 
ing for in eastern money, and as usual receiving 



C INC INN A TI EXPRESS. 67 

from these accommodated people, the issues of 
banks located in Wisconsin and Illinois. But then, 
Paul, you know you were created for the public 
good, and as Mr. Winkle said this morning, ^What's 
the use having friends, unless you can use them?' " 
Paul rephed, "Sometimes, Mcodemus, I think that 
the old man who got on the train at Westfield, and 
met an old friend (whom he engaged in conversa- 
tion, and concerning whom more anon,) did not 
say so very foolish a thing after all. The old man 
in reply to a remark made by his friend, that they 
were on the down-hill of life, and would soon sleep 
at the foot, replied in all apparent sincerity, "My 
Heavens, I hope so. I wouldn't live my life over 
again with its infernal annoyances and bothers, 
for the best keoio in Chautauqua County." 

In the afternoon "Dag," Paul and I went fishing. 
We dropped anchor opposite the mouth of Big Cas- 
cade, and the way we hauled in the fi.sh was a cau- 
tion "to weakly minded people." Off to our right, 
Mr. Scullaway and lady were seated in their pretty 
cockle-shell boat, with their fishing apparatus 
working to its full capacity. S is a true sports- 
man, and long may he "fly in the wind." In near- 
er the shore, in the stern of his "dug-out," sits "Old 
Ben", with his little old pipe in his mouth, and his 
fishing rod in his hand, motionless as the sculp- 
tured marble at the gates of — (I forget the name of 
the place.) We sometimes think that this old man, 
"the last of Perry's men," will be spared to paddle 



68 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 

his canoe up and down the Bay, as long as the black 
bass frequent these waters. To be sure, this has 
very little to do with running a train of cars. But 
then, you know, so many folks are anxious about 
the location of the depots, we thought we would 
start once from the "Harbor," just to see how it 
would seem. 

The train from the west is late to-night. But at 
last the whistle sounds — the train is here, the 
*^Comet" is attached, the bell rings, "all aboard," 
and late as we are, you can bet your life, with Ike 
Barker at the lever, "if the handle don't break the 
beard is bound to come oif ; " \vhich being interpret- 
ed means, "we will be in Buflalo on time." This 
train left Cincinnati at six o'clock this morning, 
and it is the one that carries "the Southern travel." 
It makes but three stops on our road, and is the 
most pleasant train to run that we have. The gen- 
erality of the men of the south have that plain, 
frank, open and manly address so different from the 
north, and the ladies (when alone they are requiring 
your attention to their baggage, your escort to the 
supper table, and many other little nameless atten- 
tions which a faithful conductor knows so well how 
to bestow,) never forget most cordially to thank you, 
and do not seem like many others to think the fa- 
vor shown is on their side, in giving you an oppor- 
tunity to devote yourself to them. 

Paul was taken aback one evening at Dunkirk: 
a woman from his train was going to a way sta- 



CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 69 

tion oil the Erie road, and in re-checking her bag- 
gage (wliich is not done on the train for small 
way stations) she experienced some annoyance and 
delay. She came into the dining saloon a little 
flushed, and remarked to Paul, ^'The conductor 
from Cleveland to Erie was very attentive to me, 
and here I have been left to \\\y own destruction." 
Paul had two or three ladies at the table, who 
offered to excuse him until he calmed this excited 
individual ; he, however, remarked to them that she 
was an old traveler and could take care of herself. 
She was simply one of that class of individuals 
denominated ''sand-flies" by the train boys. I 
thought I would play smart, and oft'ered my servi- 
ces to a girl at Dunkirk, and she gave her head a 
toss, and switching her crinoline, she replied pertly, 
"Thank you, sir, I've traveled enough not to need 
your assistance." 

In addition to our Cincinnatti folks we have 
Chicago and the Wabash Valley represented on 
the train. Leavins: behind time we are boominof 
along at a high rate of speed. A diminutive, wea- 
zen-faced man looking out of the window until his 
head swims, draws a long breath, and enquires in 
a loud squealing voice, '*Massy sakes, if we should 
run off the track neow w-h-e-r-e would we go to?" 
Gruft' fellow with a head shaped like a lemon, hair 
combed down and cut straight across in front, as 
though the barber had crowded a crock over his 
head and cut by the rim, seems annoyed at little 



70 SOME TBINOS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 

man's remark and replies, "Most probably you'd 
fetch np in some out of the way place beyond the 
reach of your friends." Round-faced fellow, jolly 
but sappy, remarks as Paul tears off his ticket, 
"Don't spile my tikit, I paid fourteen dollars for it, 
and you're tarin on 't ; yer won't leave me enough 
to git home with," and then he haw, haw, haws, and 
looks around him, and seeing no one inclined to 
laugh at his ivitti/ remark, he concludes that his 
neighbors don't know new goods when they see 
them, and subsides. 

A little farther on — a double seat and a sight 
familiar to us of the train. A young and care- 
worn woman, supporting the wasted frame of her 

husband, pleads earnestly for Paul to stop atR, . 

Her husband is dying. The last resort — the south- 
ern journey — has failed to have any good effect on 
the doomed man ; and, oh ! she wishes so much he 
may reach their own home before he dies. She 
describes the situation of the house — their home 
— close beside the track. Altlioiigh the train is 
behind time, and we are straining every nerve to 
make a connection, Paul cannot deny this woman, 
nor resist the anxious look on the face of the 
dying man. — We reach their home — Paul and I 
carry him in and lay him beneath his own roof; 

and three days afterwards in passing R with 

the train, we see a group of persons with uncovered 
heads surrounding a mound of fresh earth in the 
village church-yard, and the hands of the solemn 



CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 71 

man of God raised to Heaven, and we know that 
our passenger has reached the end of life's journey 
and is at rest. 

A bewildered looking Celt, with a hirge and dirty 
family has just exchanged his checks with the 
checkman who passes on. The man is sweating 
like a sausage-stuffer, has his checks in one hand, 
his tattered and torn tickets in the other and a puz- 
zled look on his countenance. He yells an impre- 
cation at the crying children, looks at the checks, 
then at the tickets, and now at the retreating check- 
man, and proceeds to scratch that head of his in 
vain effort at a solution of the qua.ndary he is in. 
We take his tickets and discover that they are from 
the Wabash Yalley and take him to New York by 
the Erie road. He salutes us with "Keppen, will 
yez plaze explain till me what Tm to do; betwane 
the luggage and the childer and the tickets, I'm all 
through other." We set the Celt right, explained 
everything particularly to him, and saw tlie entire 
family off the train at Dunkirk, and then went to 
supper. On going through the train, after leaving 
Dunkirk, behold this interesting family in another 
coach of the same train. We cannot describe to 
you the wails they set up at the discovery of their 
blunder. The father commenced swearino:, and his 
amiable looking companion began to ''bate the 
childer by way of devarshun." At Silver Creek 
we unloaded them to return to Dunkirk on next 
train, and we must say the chances were in favor 
of their again passing that station. 



72 SOME THINGS SEEN ON THE CARS. 

An old lad}^ sits behind this party munching pop- 
corn and carrying a vagabond looking cur on her 
lap, which snaps at Paul as he reaches for the old 
lady's ticket. About this time an odor fills the 
car strongly suggestive of skunks in the vicinity. 
These offensive animals come up out of the 
swamps at night, and, if the night is cool, take a 
position on the rail, which yet retains the heat of 
the sun, and, dazzled with the brilliant light of the 
lamp of the approaching locomotive, remain until 
struck by the pilot, and directly a sense of their 
presence is diff'iised throughout the train. Old 
couple behind commence to snuff', and suggest to 
Paul the propriety of putting out old lady's dog, as 
he has been killing skunks. Old lady flares up and 
we pass along leaving them to blaze away at each 
other. Paul reaches his hand to the next man for 
his ticket ; the man rises to his feet, grasps Paul's 
dexter and gives it a hearty shake, with a "how 
d'ye do," presuming of course that the conductor 
was some old acquaintance whom he had forgotten. 
Paul asks for his ticket, and, receiving it, passes 
on. Man remarks, "Terribly warm time of it ; Yes ; 
Dry; Yes; IN^eed rain; Y^es; Grass is light; Y'es ; 
Frost do much damage ? Y^es, killed all the 
children in Chautauqua County under two years of 
age. i^o ! Y"es." Old lady says, "Marcy on us! 
killed the children !" and then looks affectionately 
at her manc^y-lookino: cur. 

Old lady with pug nose and iron-rimmed spec- 



CINCINNATI EXPRESS. 73 

taclea, replies to Paul's request for her ticket — 
"Yes, I've got a ticket for Buffalo, but I a'int go- 
ing to give it up till I git my cliist." We ex- 
plain, remonstrate, but she holds the ticket tight 
and says, "You a'int a-goin' to come any of your 
delewsions over me, I can tell ye ; I've lieerd tell 
all abeout ye. Didn't Jeremiah tell me heow to 
deu, and to be kereful ? He's been deown twice 
afore." At last vjq get the ticket by making her 
understand that it is the check she is not to give 
up before receiving her baggage. 

Man carrying an infant and endeavoring with 
a bottle of milk with rubber top to supply the 
place of a mother. You can read the story as he 
gazes iu that infant's face and traces the features of 
its absent mother. She has died in that far off 
western country, maybe from the lack of the com- 
forts of her old ]N"ew England home, and he is tak- 
ing the child to its grand parents; and, poor man, 
when he has fulfilled her dying charge in regard 
to the infant, you will see him returning alone. 
God be with him in his terrible privation. 

A woman, with face dreadfully scratched and 
bruised, holds a child tight in her arms and sits in an 
absent mood, save when the train thunders over a 
bridge or rounds a curve, and then the expression 
on her face is one of wild anxiety. She and her 
child escaped with their lives in that terrible acci- 
dent which occurred the other day on the Michigan 
Southern Road. She informs us that three hours 



IJf SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 

after she was taken from the ruins, her child was 
found safe and uninjured clinging to the body of 
a dead woman, and then, whispering to Paul, she 
enquires if he considers our bridges quite safe. 

Two Milesians in a seat together. One rises: 
"Mr. Kundookther, could jez let the two of us go to 
Doonkerk for a shillin?" "IS^o, you must paj^ the 
regular fare" "Oh, bad cess to yez, but yer hard," 
and then they pay. Behind are two returning 
gold-seekers from Pike's Peak, traveling on a pass, 
dirty, ragged, sunburnt and penniless — but "satis- 
fied." We are in the last coach, and now the rain 
begins to pour down outside, and in comes a 
bruised, bunged-eyed looking man from the hind 
platform. A glance at him and some others we 
have not yet reached shows them to be from the 
"Gem of the Say." Irishman and his wife got on 
at Westfield and want to get ofi* at Salem. We 
don't stop at Salem. Woman saj's we must stop 
at Salem, she lives there. Paul tells them there is 
no use in talking; we are behind time and can't 
stop, and wouldn't stop any way. Then came a 
volley of abuse from them which continued until 
we reached Dunkirk, and as they stepped off the 
train and "struck out" in the wet for a walk of 
some miles, the woman turning to Paul and shak- 
ing her fist at him said, "Condoocter, I do hope til 
Gad you'l break your neck before you get til Buf- 
falo," and then spit venomously at him. Paul re- 
plied : "It is a wet night and dark, pick your steps, 



NIGHT EXPBESS WEST FROM BUFFALO. 75 

and keep out of the cattle-guards, and, lest we may 
never see you again, we bid you an affectionate 
Farewell." "Farewell," echoed Nicodemus. 



III. 

The Night Express "West from Bnffalc 

We have not journe3'ed together since the heats 
of summer. Then our eyes fell upon the rich 
green of the forests and the fields of waving corn ; 
and when we stopped at the stations our ears were 
saluted with the chirrup of the cricket and the dry, 
crackling song of the locust. [N'ow the trees have 
dropped their mantle of leaves, the voice of the in* 
sect world is hushed, the farmer has garnered his 
grain, and the bleak winds of November are warn- 
ing us of the approach of winter. 

Again and again since we met you last we have 
passed ''black mile-stones" in our journey of life. 
Death has called us away from the train, and we 
have accompanied one and another dear friend to 
the water's edge. We have asked those shining 
ones that stood upon the other side of the river "If 
a man die shall he live again ?" and they have an- 
swered us, "I am the resurrection and the life", saith 
the Lord. "He that believeth in me, though he 
were dead yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth 
and believeth in me shall never die." We have 



76 SOME TJJINOS SEEN ON THE CARS. 

turned back to the biis}^ scenes of life purified 
somewhat, we trust, by tlie fires of affliction, and 
in the long night hours on the train we think of 
the pure and upright example left us as a rich leg- 
acy by him who has passed away forever; and we 
think of her whose sun went down in the morn- 
ing of her days. We see the tears falling from 
the oyen of her young friends, standing around her 
as she lay coffined and cold beneath the maples in 
the yard, on that still, dreamy, Indian summer day, 
with the flowers wound in her hair and clasped in 
her hand. We never can forget the calm quiet of 
thatfifternoon — the hazy, dreamy atmosphere — the 
deathly stillness — the dead leaves falling around 
her as her young companions sang the funeral 
hymn, just before her face was hid from us not 
again to be seen until the morning of the resurrec- 
tion. Since then we have not felt like writing, but 
rather like passing on quietly with tlie throng un- 
til beckoned by the silent messenger to the shores 
of the great river. But w^e have duties to perform 
in life, and stern reality must be stared full in its 
brass}^ face; and again we are amid the realities of 
the busy world. 

Rap, rap, rap, — " Hello!" "Half past three." 
"Aye, Aye." Delightful hour of the morning to 
arise and commence the duties of the day ! We 
have had five hours of rest, and up we rise to leave 
the depot with the Boston Express. The hacks and 
omnibuses are rumbling down Exchange Street as 



NIOHT EXPRESS WEST FROM BUFFALO. 77 

we reach the pavement. A raw breeze is blowing 
from the east, and a cutting fine rain strikes us in 
the face as we walk briskly down to the depot. 

The train is in from Albany, and the hackmen 
stand ready, announcing with their "clarion notes" 
to such unlucky passengers as are intending to 
stop at Buffalo, their ability and disposition to car- 
ry them to any depot, hotel or residence in the city ; 
and the confusion of Babel bes^ins. Two endues 
from Erie and Syracuse, their head lights illumina- 
ting the depot with dazzling brilliancy, and blow- 
ing and fizzing and fretting like blooded racers 
anxious to take the track — the engineer with his 
little lamp and can in hand giving the joints and 
slides a last *'dope,'' passengers in the car quarrel- 
ing over the right to seats, and calling for confir- 
mation of their claims. Two or three dogs, in the 
baggage car, add their piteous howls to the inces- 
sant din, while the deep bass voice of Joe M 

rises above all the noise as he calls out the num- 
bers of the checked baggage and receives for an- 
swer, "Lake Shore," "Steamboat," "Omnibus 
Line". 

At last the conductor's "all aboard" is heard, 
and we step upon the platform. The signal is giv- 
en, and we move eastward and southward until we 
double the foot of the lake. We enter the first coach, 
I carrjdng Paul's lamp and shaking up those who 
from fatigue of travel have dropped asleep. 

We meet an old lady in spectacles rushing for 



78 SOME THINGS SEEN ON TEE CARS. 

the door, band-box in one hand, umbrella in 
the other. We ask her what is the trouble, " Why 
Massy sakes, I don't want to go back to Albany. 
I'm going to I-o-way." We explain the cause of 
our course being eastward, and the old lady settles 
away in her seat, satisfied. JSTumerous passengers 
who had turned their seats to face the West now 
rise and turn them back again. 

Here is trouble ahead, Paul ; a young man on his 
first journey is looking doubtfully at a very bright 
watch in his hand — holds it to his ear and shakes it, 
and then listens again. He hands the watch to 
Paul for his opinion of it. — It is soon examined. 
*'How came you by this watch, young man ?" says 
Paul. "Well, you see, an honest-looking fellow 
came in before we started and said he had left his 
money in his trunk, and it was already checked and 
stowed away in the baggage car and he could not 
get it till he got to Cleveland. He had got his 
family aboard and hadn't money enough into twen- 
ty dollars about him to get his tickets, and if I'd 
just let hun have twenty dollars till he got to Cleve- 
land he would get his trunk and make it all right; 
and he gave me this gold watch worth a hundred 
dollars for security; and this man here says I am 
sold and the watch aint worth a cent. Why, when I 
told the fellow that I was going out to Mc Greggor's 
Landing, says he, ^how lucky ; that's just where we 
are going to settle.'" *' Young man," said Paul, 
" your watch is worthless, and you will never see 



NIGHT EXPRESS WEST FROM BUFFALO. 79 

your friend again.*' We pass on. Listen to that 
group in the farther end of the coach ; it won't 
require much eifort. It is strange that many peo- 
ple while riding on the train think that they must 
raise their voices to the key of the scream of a pan- 
ther to be heard by their companions — not know 
ing, as we do, that the voice always sounds distinct 
and clear above the rattle and rush of the cars. 

The train soon arrives at Dunkirk, and here we 
have a large accession to it, including three coach 
loads of Mormons from England and Wales, un- 
der the guardianship of an elder from Salt Lake. 
The Elder has his hat set jauntily on the side of his 
head, wears a Talma coat, heavy, full beard, and 
has a most forbidding and villainous looking coun- 
tenance. There were many young girls of the 
party attired in grey stuff dresses, with brown flats. 
They had the fresh, clear complexions, with that 
nice blending of the lily and the rose, seen no where 
in such perfection as in the faces of the English 
and Welsh peasantry. 



A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 



October 1864. 



It was dark as Ave walked from the depot to the 
tavern of Mr. Mc Clelhm, on the public square, 
in Gettysburg. We pressed our hands upon the 
old-fashioned door-handles of the house, and were 
cordially w^elcomed by our plain and kind land- 
lord. Down we sat by a good coal fire. On the 
mantle-piece was a coal-oil lamp, made from a shell 
from the world-renowned battle-field. The por- 
traits on the wall were the grand-parents of the 
landlord. I knew at once I would like this hotel. 
The father of the landlord had kept it before him. 
We had an excellent supper, and as I sat down to 
a cisrar. Old John Burns came in. He was "the 
only citizen of Gettysburg," it is said, '* who took 
up arms against the Rebels in defence of their 
homes." John Burns gave us a description of 
what he saw during the battle, and seemed very 
modest in everything pertaining to himself. He was 
wounded. His hatred of " Copperheads " seemed 
greater even than of Rebels in arms, and he an- 
nounced to me, in a very confidential kind of way, 



. A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 81 

that " the Almighty was not going to permit them 
infernal scoundrels to rain the country." 

Our bed was high. I had to pick Ruth up and 
toss her into it. All right ; I wouldn't have had it 
otherwise for the world. And here we laid our- 
selves down quietly and slept undisturbed, where, 
but sixteen months since, two hundred thousand 
men were busily engaged in killing each other with 
many muskets and four hundred pieces of ar- 
tillery. 

I was awake very early in the morning, and 
passed out through the town, and soon saw evi- 
dences of the conflict on the trees, fences and 
houses down towards Cemetery Hill. Gettysburg 
has about twenty-eight hundred inhabitants. Fin- 
ishing my short walk I returned to our excellent 
breakfast of partridge, sausage, apple-butter, &c. 
Mr. E. of Philadelphia went with us first to the 
IN^ational Cemetery. Workmen were placing a 
substantial stone fence around it, and building a 
neat brick dwelling-house for the keeper. Here 
we saw the graves of something like three thou- 
sand Union Soldiers buried by States; Pennsylva- 
nia soldiers by themselves, JSTew Hampshire sol- 
diers by themselves, &c. Sticks with pencil marks, 
and names carved rudely with knives on boards, 
marked the resting places of the brave men below. 
A marble headstone is to mark the grave of each 
soldier. Oh, what a sacrifice was made here, just 
sixteen months ago, to save this nation ! 



82 A VISIT TO OETTYSBURO. 

The Cemetery of the town adjoins the National 
Cemetery. Through and over this Cemetery the 
storm of battle raged. The top of a large stone, 
marking the grave of a soldier killed at Fair Oaks, 
was broken by a shot or shell. In passing through 
we saw a stone with this inscription: " i?e ye 
ready ! Jennie Wade, killed by a hall fired by a Rebel 
shaiy-shooter at the battle of Gettysbiirr/, July 3d, 
1863, ivhilst in discharge of her household duties. 
Aged W years, 1 m, and 7 dJ' From this place we 
went to Culp's Hill, our extreme right. And how 
shall I describe this place ! It would fill many 
pages of this book were I to attempt any descrip- 
tion, particular in its character, of the disposition 
of ours and the enemy's troops, the different days 
and at the different points, miles apart, of this great 
battle. Here Slocum and the 12th corps carried 
death into the enemy's ranks. The desperate char- 
acter of the fii^htini? is seen and rescistered on the 
trees and the rocks. All over the trunks of those 
trees, for twenty feet above the roots, are marks of 
the fierce musketry. You cannot lay your hand 
over many of the trees without covering a mark of 
a minie ball or a wound from shell. Huge limbs 
swing by a few tendons, wounded and disfigured 
by shell. All over the ground here, and every- 
where in the streets of Gettysburg, in the woods, 
in the roads, in the fields, on the mountain side — 
are scattered the debris of vast armies — the ashes 
of camp-fires, cast- off" shoes and boots, coats, 



A VISIT TO OETTYSBURO. 8S 

shirts, cartouch-boxes, haversacks, caps, etc. etc. 
For miles and miles they are scattered on the 
ground and you are never out of sight of them. 

Our next ride was out along our lines to our ex- 
treme left. The presence of our e;^cellent guide 
Mr. Frey, was invaluable. 

I found much benefit from my late conversations 
with Mr. Vincent, and the re-reading of all our 
accounts of the battle, together with the Rebel his- 
tory and the narrative of the British officer in the 
enemy's line at the time of the battle. The posi- 
tions and disposition of the corps and the leaders 
were fresh in my mind. 

How can I describe the place of the last des- 
perate charge of the enemy on Hancock's corps 
and their terrible and final repulse! There they 
went down like dry grass before fire. To use the. 
expressive words of a rebel officer of Pickett's who 
described the charge to me : " Our lines seemed to 
vanish and disappear." Along near here we no- 
ticed a grave surrounded with a fence and a head- 
board with this inscription : ^'Lieut. Col. I. Was- 
den, 22d Ga. Yds.; killed near Gettysburg, July 
3d, 1863." Here were the Peach Orchard and the 
fields around it — the one field where sixteen hun- 
dred rebels are buried — the spot where Barksdale 
was killed. (The farmer that lived near pro- 
nounced Barksdale the bravest man he ever saw). 
As we approached Round Top it was at once evi- 
dent that it was the key of the whole position — 



8^ A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 

that point lost and all was lost. Driving our car- 
riage down the rocky lane that leads from the turn- 
pike to Round Top, we soon reached the base. 
Dismounting among the rocks, we saw some bones 
of a rebel, with shreds of his "butternut" cloth- 
ing. We passed through the woods filled with 
rocks, and ascended the Round Top. The summit 
is clear of trees, but they are scattered on the sides. 
On a large rock near the summit is chiseled this 
inscription : '^ Col. Strong Vincent fell here com'g 
3d Brig. 1st div. 5th corps, July 2d, 1863." 

Standing: on the rock and lookino^ down into the 
valley, Mr. Frey called my attention to the "Devil's 
Den," which consisted of two immense rocks stand- 
ing up side and side^^with a small but convenient 
opening betw^een them. Across the top was another 
immense rock. The opening was in such a position 
that neither shot nor shell, although freely thrown 
at the rebel sharp-shooter occupying this place, 
could reach him. The story goes (and I deem, 
it an exceedingly plausible one, and Mr. Frey says 
he does not doubt it), that Col. Vincent was hit by 
this sharp-shooter in the "Devil's Den." After re- 
peated efforts to dislodge him, two of Berdan's 
sharp-shooters were called up and the locality of the 
fellow pointed out to them. One of them slipped 
down to the friendly cover of a large Whitewood 
tree, to the right of Vincent's rock, and flanking 
the opening of the "Devil's Den". Here waiting 
until the rebel reloaded his gun, and coming cau- 



A VISIT TO OETTYSBUIiO. 85 

tiously to the end of the rock, be took deliberate 
aim and sent the rel)el to his long home. This 
sharp-shooter has been at Gettysburg since the bat- 
tle, and went with Mr. Frey to all these localities. 

The rebel's grave is just at the mouth of the 
den, and his boots I saw lying just within the den, 
thrown there by Mr. Frey at the burial of the rebel. 
CoL Vincent, Generals Weed and Haslett, com- 
manding battery of regulars, were killed on Round 
Top, probably all by sharp-shooters. A little bush 
tree of chestnut oak arrows alons^side of Vincent's 
liock. I broke off a piece of rock from the under 
side, out of sight, and took up a very small ever- 
green tree some five inches high, and three black 
raspberry bushes, as mementoes of the place. 

It has been the fashion to attribute rashness to 
Col. Vincent for undue and unnecessary exposure, 
which led to his untimely death. Standing on 
the rock where he stood, and surveying the nature 
of the ground and all the circumstances, I could 
not call him rash. We have the ample and positive 
testimonj^of his superiors that in everything pertain- 
ing to a soldier, he was as absolutely perfect 'as was 
possible for a man to be who had not received a mili- 
tary education. But the education received at Har- 
vard and the habits of close application formed there, 
were all applied to the learning of the duties of the 
field. In the long, long months of inaction the field 
and its possible contingencies are all calculated, and 
a man's duties to country, cause, corps, and family 



86 A VISIT TO GETTYSBUBO. 

are all weighed. lie knew tl»e utter uselessncss of 
niiclue exposure, and that it was not the mark of 
the brave man, but of the fool. The ohl Butter- 
liekl Brigade lay along the ridge of Round Top. 
The rifles and cannon of the enemy had terribly 
thinned their ranks. Again and again the enemy 
pressed up the rocky sides, and again and again 
were beaten. Anxious eyes were turned to the 
rear for the promised supports; they came not. 
Hope began to desert the thinned and jaded ranks 
of the old brigade, which was known as the flower 
of the old Peninsular army of the Potomac. These 
hardy, sun-browned men were the veterans of a score 
of battle-fields. Round Top Mountain was the key 
to the whole battle-field. Lose that, and the battle 
of Gettysburg was a rebel triumph. And who does 
not know that this battle was the turning point in 
the history of this nation? Baltimore and Wash- 
ington were then at the mercy of Rebeldom. The 
nation was shrouded in gloom. 

We all remember the first days of July, 1863. 
God grant we may never see their like again ! Col. 
Vincent commanded on Round Top. -None knew 
better than he the result of failure to hold it. He 
was hard-pressed. Promised re-inforcements had 
not come. It seemed as though we must retreat. 
Vincent comprehended the position. Springing 
upon the rock to command with his eye the entire 
brigade, in a firm voice he ordered them to stand 
fast, encouraging them with the promised re-in- 



A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 87 

forcements, and by gesture and voice, and with all 
the energy of his soul, setting the example of he- 
roic determination to hold Round Top Mountain. 
But on that rock he was smitten with the rebel 
bullet and his active work on earth ended — anoth- 
er victim of this damnable rebellion.. We were 
playing for a great stake at Gettysburg — all the 
mighty future of this nation — he and thousands of 
others died to secure it to us and to our children. 

Passing down to the vast rocks, scattered about 
in the valley at the foot of the mountain, which 
afforded such excellent lurking spots for the en- 
emy's sharp-shooters, we Jwere told by our guide 
that many wounded rebels had crawled under 
these rocks for safety. After the battle heavy 
rains set in and drowned many of them, and the 
current of water brought them to view. Others 
there were undiscovered until the flesh had fallen 
from their bones. Here, in a secluded spot among 
the rocks, I found the bones of a rebel just as he 
had fallen. Picking up one of his shoes to re- 
move the string, to tie together some little trees, , 
the bones of his foot tumbled out. It was a 
"Georgia state shoe" made from canvas, with 
leather tips and heel stiifeners. From among his 
ribs I picked up a battered minie ball which doubt- 
less caused his death. 

Moving aside a flat stone, Mr. Frey showed us 
the grinning face and skull of a rebel. Some of 
them in this rocky part of the field have YQvy shal- 



88 A VISIT TO OETTYSBURG. 

low graves. I asked the reason of this, and was 
told that first all the wounded of both armies were 
cared for, and they numbered tens of thousands. 
All the horses and mules of the count}- tliat had 
not been taken by the rebels were pressed for the 
Union arnn^ — assistance of that kind was out of the 
question. Our own dead were then buried. The 
weather was intensely hot and the bodies were de- 
cayed too much to remove. They were buried 
where they fell, the scanty earth was scraped from 
the sides of the rocks and with small stones cover- 
ed over the dead. 

Getting into the carriage, we passed over be- 
tween Big and Little Round Top to the other 
turnpike. It was near evening, and we were una- 
ble to visit the house where Col. Vincent was car- 
ried; but we saw it from our carriage — the house 
in which he died. We passed close to the little 
house used by Gen. Meade for his head-quarters. 
It was perforated by shell. Xear the house, in a 
liuge stack, we saw the bones of eighteen horses 
— those of his staff killed in the yard. 

The day was beautiful, and the sun was setting 
as we rode into Gettysburg. We had a pleasant 
evening with our Philadelphia acquaintances at 
the hotel, some talk with old John Burns and Mr. 
Frey, incidents from the landlord and a girl in the 
house, and then to bed. 

Soon after breakfast the next morning we started 
for a long walk along the rebel lines — the two Mr. 



A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 89 

Espers, Caroline, Ruth and I. Passing out the 
Chambersburg turnpike on by the college and sem- 
inary used as hospital and head-quarters by Gen. 
Lee and the rebels, we struck the rebel lines where 
they crossed the road and turned to the left. Here 
again, through the fields and the woods, was all the 
debris of an army. I noticed that the shoes were 
mostly small sized and "English make", showing 
they had run the blockade. 

The lines were perfect, made of stone, and, in 
absence of stone, rails covered with earth. Far 
along here we walked, Mr. E. with his coat on his 
arm, for it was warm. Again we looked at the 
ground of the last desperate charge on Hancock, 
saw the frames of shells everywhere. We stopped 
at the house of Peter Rogers. He was gone; in 
fact all were gone but a small boy who showed us 
the house, disfigured and torn with shot and shell. 
This boy was Peter's grandson, and was a plain, 
guileless farmer's boy. Shells entered the house 
from Cemetery Hill and Round Top, one bursting 
in a bureau and pinning a portion of the contents 
to the log walls, where they still remained. A 
piece of shell \vas stuck in a leaf of the table. A 
minie ball struck just over the clock. A rebel 
sharp-shooter was killed on top of the house, and 
tumbled down in front of the door. Another died 
of exhaustion on the steps. Many were found 
dead in the yard. In a field behind the house sev- 
eral were buried; the feet of one stuck up through 



90 A VISIT TO GEITYSBUJIO. 

the ground. Ilis skull was bare, the boy said. ''In 
the house during the battle was graiidpap and Jo- 
sephine. Grandniam was on Round Top in the 
Hnes. I was in town. After the battle was over 
grandpap came into town and said the house was 
turned clear around and the cow was killed and 
" Cain" was killed (''Cain" was a big dog who 
wanted to discover the thickness of my pantaloons) 
— that grandmam had gone off, etc. I went out 
then. I wanted to see "Cain." Tiie pickets were 
shooting at one another along the pike yet, but I 
was'nt afraid. "Cain" was gone three days and then 
came back. Josephine went out where they were 
shooting, and split wood and brought it in to bake 
bread for the soldiers; and she carried water night 
and day to the wounded of both armies. The rebel 
officers ordered her back to the house repeatedlj^, 
telling her she would be killed. Finally they per- 
suaded her to wrap something white about her, as 
she moved around in the dark carrying water to 
the wounded, to designate her and her mission." 
Noble Josephine! We asked for her. She mar- 
ried shortly after and moved to the Ohio. 

On the front porch was a box, such an one as is 
always found on the hind end of old Pennsylva- 
nia wagons for a feed trough. In that box was a 
quantity of shot, shell, etc., gathered on the farm. 
The boy said "Grandpap sold three hundred 
pounds of minie balls for lead.^' Passing along 
we saw where four rebel colonels were buried in a 



A VISIT TO GETTYSBURG. 91 

row. I think from their position they were Gener- 
al Arnistead's colonels. 

We reached the hotel and dined. Firing had 
been heard from below, and speculations were in- 
dulged in as to whether it was Sheridan or only 
some of Mosby's men out on a lark. It decided 
us, however, not to go down via Chambersburg, 
Antietam and South Mountain as we had thought 
of doing. After dinner, Caroline and Ruth being 
tired, I struck out alone across the fields to Gulp's 
Hill, walkino^ throus^h a lane with stone fence on 
either side. I crossed a field where they were 
quarrying stone for cemetery walls. Here I found 
an old acquaintance, a persimmon tree ; the fruit 
of course was not yet ripe. I climbed Gulp's Hill 
and walked around it again, wondering how any- 
thing alive could escape the "shower of leaden 
hail", the marks of which were everywhere. An- 
other night's sleep at our excellent hotel, another 
walk through the town, and we left our pleasant 
Pennsylvania landlord, Pennsylvania house, and 
Pennsylvania town. 



VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 



* Letters written ix 18G8. 

I. 

Fredericksburg. 

Standing on the Stafford Heights, on the banks 
of the Rappahannock, a few days after the disas- 
trous battle of Fredericksburg, with a group of 
officers, I swept the fatal field with a glass, care- 
fully noting each point as my friends directed my 
vision and detailed the fearful terrors of the day. 
I determiiied to visit the ground where Clay, and 
Riblet, and Brown, with many others of our boys, 
had fallen, and Long, and Lynch, and Brown were 
wounded, in what seemed to my un military eye a 
wUd and vains^lorious undertakins:. So when the 
buds were bursting, and the birds were celebrating 
their annual return from Dixie, this spring, I wrote 
to '^my friend the Colonel," whom I had left stretch- 
ed on a bed of fever in these pine woods of Virginia, 
and reminded him of a campact made witii me to 

* First published in the Erie Daily Dispatch. 



FREDERICKSBURG . 93 

visit some of these battle-fields, when the war was 
over. 

And together we have visited this fatal field, 
gone over to Chancellorsville, stretched ourselves 
under the trees in the thickets of the Wilderness, 
where nothing is heard at this season bat the 
melancholy notes of the whippoorwill, which Esten 
Cooke says are like the cries of unhappy beings im- 
prisoned in these mournful solitudes. We have 
communed with the thick-lying dead in the dark 
thickets of that weird region — stood upon the spot 
where Stonewall Jackson, the mighty man of the 
South, received his death-wound — visited the fields 
of Mechanicsville, Gaines' Mill, and Cold Harbor 
— seen where McLane and Naghel died, where 
Reed and Wittich and Hunter were wounded, and 
Judson, Lj^on and Brown fell bleeding into the 
hands ot the enemy. We have walked together 
through the streets of Richmond and Petersburg — 
seen something of the vast fortifications around 
those cities — sat together under the trees in that 
lovliest resting-place of the dead, Hollywood, on 
the banks of the James, and resolved to tell what 
we have seen to others, who, like ourselves, are 
interested in these thins^s. 

We took steamer early in the morning for Ac- 
quia Creek. The woods were glorious in the ear- 
ly verdure of spring, and the gay redbud, with 
other flowering trees, dotted all the hill-sides. 
Arlington stood there bereft of all its beauties, and 



9^ VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

surrounded by a colony of negro cabins. I could 
not but tliink that in the fulness of time it might 
have become sucli a Mecca as Mount Vernon, 
which stands a few miles below, grand and beauti- 
ful as of old, unscathed by war, and with it divide 
the love and pious pilgrimages of the lovers of 
free government throughout the world. But Lee 
chose the foolish part, and from him was taken 
away even that w^iich he had. We reached Acquia 
Creek about the middle of the forenoon, took the 
cars, which w^ere new, and ran upon new iron, ties 
and bridges, and in an hour we passed over that 
peninsula between the Potomac and Rappahan- 
nock, which was occupied so long by our armies 
under Burnside and Hooker. This region still 
looks like a desert. The w^oods and fences are all 
gone, and a dense forest of second growth has ap- 
peared instead. When we were here last, a hun- 
dred thousand men, more or less, were encamped 
between these rivers; to-day we saw two or three 
black men, each plowing with a single mule and a 
Watt plow. We soon crossed the Kappahan- 
nock and were in Fredericksburg. It is a little 
singular that so many battles of the war should 
have been fought in this county of Spottsylvania — 
the two Fredericksburgs, Chancellorsville, the 
Wilderness and the battle of Spottsylvania Court 
House. 

The county is twenty-three miles long and seven- 
teen broad, was founded in 1720, and named from 



FREDERICKSBUBO. 95 

Alex. Spottswood, then Governor of Virginia. A 
fort against the Indians was established within 
the bounds of this county as early as 1674. This 
fort was at Germania Ford, so called from a colo- 
ny of Germans sent over by Queen Ann and locat- 
ed here. The first furnaces located in our country 
were in this region. I have seen an immense old 
ruin of stone, ivy-covered to the top of the gables, 
and the interior grown up with trees, upon the 
banks of the river. It was used as a furnace, and 
in it was made much of the material used in the 
Revolution. Fredericksburg is at the head of tide 
water, and vessels of one hundred and forty tons 
can come up to the town. It was founded in law 
in 1727 and named from Prince Frederick, the 
father of the third George. Falmouth, directly 
across the river, and just above, w^as founded at 
the same time. Probably there never was a battle 
fought giving non-combatants so good an oppor- 
tunity for observation as did the first fight on this 
ground. 

Here is an idea of the field — at least that part of 
it interesting to us by reason of the presence of 
our own regiments. Move the Peninsula (at Erie) 
forward to the public dock, and raise the elevation 
of it until it is somewhat higher than Federal Hill. 
It will then represent the Stafford Heights, occupied 
by our army. The space between the public dock 
and the shore is the Rappahannock river. Bend the 
range of hills bounded by Conrad Brown's, Ceme- 



96 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

tery Hill, Federal Hill, Capt. Wilkins's, and the 
high ground south of Beecher's orchard into a semi- 
circle — Federal Hill remainiuii: central. Crowd all 
this high land with hatteries, and on Federal Hill, 
directly in Peach street, place the celebrated 
Washington Battery of ^e\v Orleans. Move that 
stretch of highland, of which Nicholson's Hill is 
the centre, north within one half mile of Federal 
Hill, and make that range of hills a semi-circle 
parallel to the first. Crowd it with batteries. Safe 
in the valley between these semi-circular ranges of 
hills, is the rebel army. To the right of Nichol- 
son's Hill, and facing toward the town, stands 
Gen. Lee. He sees the entire field, and with his 
glass may see Gen. Burnside, standing on the bal- 
cony of the Phillips House, across the river, on the 
Stafford Heights. 

Just beneath the Washington Battery, and at 
the foot of Federal Hill, there is a solid stone wall 
of great thickness and breast high, facing the 
town. The side toward the town was strengthened 
with earth. This is the celebrated and fatal "stone 
wall," mentioned by all historians of this battle, 
and behind it were placed the two brigades of T. 
R. R. Cobb and Kershaw, both of McLaw's division. 
We will imagine the 145tli regiment, which suffered 
so severely in this battle, formed on Twelfth street — 
the other regiments of the brigade upon Tenth and 
Eleventh streets. From Ichabod Run (which typifies 
a wide mill race or run), to the foot of Federal Hill, 



FREDERICKSBURG. 97 

is an open plain with perhaps a dozen houses scat- 
tered here and there. The heavy guns over the river 
are playing over the heads of our men upon the 
rebel position. As we move up Peach street we 
meet men carrying the dead and wounded of 
French's column to the rear. These men have 
been killed before they reached the open plain. 
When we pass the Morton House and reach Icha- 
bod Run, a battery on the right opens upon us. It 
was just at this point relatively, that Lieutenant 
M. Brown was struck and received his death 
wound. 

We move out on the plain, first going to the 
right, then bearing off to the left and spreading 
out like a fan, until the formation of the line of 
battle brings the 145th directly facing the Wash- 
ington Battery, and that terrible stone wall, and 
now in the clear open field, the batteries on the 
right, on the left and in the centre play upon the 
dense masses of French and Hancock's brigades as 
they move forward on the double-quick. Longstreet 
opposed us in this part of the field, and says in his 
own report, "Our artillery being in position opened 
fire as soon as the masses became dense enough to 
warrant it. The fire was very destructive and de- 
moralizing in its efiect, and frequently made gaps 
in the enemy's ranks that could be seen at the dis- 
tance of a. mile." A rebel account says: *'The 
whole plain was swept by a direct and converging 
fire from the numerous batteries on thesemi-circu- 



98 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

lar crest above; and behind this lay the heavy 
Confederate reserve, unneeded, as it proved, for a 
few men were enough to do the bloody work." Un- 
der orders, nothing was left but to assail this 
position ; so French first was thrown forward 
from the rise of ground. No sooner had this Di- 
vision burst out on the plain than from the bat- 
teries above came a fearful fire, cross-showers of 
shot and shell, opening great gaps in their ranks ; 
but closing up, the ever thining lines pressed 
on, until, met by volleys of musketry at short 
range from the stone wall, they fell back with a 
loss of nearl}^ one half their number, and amid the 
shouts and yells of the Confederates. 

Close behind comes Hancock — over the bodies 
of French's men they go, the wild battle light 
in their eyes — down go dozens of our regiment. 
Clay's commanding form disappears, young Rib- 
let falls, a ball strikes Col. Brown but still he 
presses on; gallant Lynch goes down, another 
minie strikes the Colonel passing through the 
body, but he bears up and moves toward the in- 
fernal fire ; he takes a few steps, his mouth fills 
with blood, a mist gathers before his eyes, he 
brushes at his face to clear his vision, totters — he 
is down. "Of the five thousand men Hancock led 
into action, more than two thousand fell in the 
charge, and it was found that the bravest of them 
had thrown up their hands and lay dead within 
five and twenty paces of the stone wall." 



FREDERICKSBURG. gg 

My friend the Colonel, who had fought over this 
ground, pointed out all the positions, went over 
the details of the battle on this part of the field in 
a thrilling and impressive manner; and out there 
we met a man who had fought against us at this 
point and who corroborated all that the Colonel had 
said of the bravery of our men in this unequijl and 
hopeless contest. And right here let me say that 
in the neighborhood of all these battlefields we 
met those who had fought against us, and their ac- 
counts of many battles coincided in an astonishing 
manner with the descriptions by our own men. 

In that house, said the Colonel, we slept the night 
before the battle;- right here Col. Brown was sup- 
ported, as he tottered along in front of the old 83d, 
who were just awaiting the insane order to go 
into that pathway of death. Here Col. Vincent 
espied his wounded friend, and running forward 
gave him — as he supposed — the last grasp of the 
hand permitted on earth ; but how mysterious are 
the ways of God ! The one reported mortally 
wounded lives to-day;* the other died on the 
field of battle. Here we crossed the race ; here we 
executed the order "on right by file into line ;" 
right there is the brick-yard ; now we come to the 
large ice house, the pit of which Maj. Yon Borcke, 
in his account of the battle published in Black- 
wood, says "was filled with dead Yankees." 

* Col. Brown died in the winter of 1880. He had never 
fully recovered from, his terrible wound at Fredericksburg. 



100 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

We readied the line of our farthest advance, 
plainly discerned by the long trench once filled 
with the dead just where they had fallen, but now 
removed to the ItTatlonal Cemeterj^ ahead of us on 
the heights. We are on Marye's Hill ; all over the 
house and s^rounds are marks of shot and shell. 
We reach the crest of Marye's Heights, occupied 
by the Washington Artillery under Col. Walton. 
What a position ! No marvel the Confederates had 
it all their own way. It was mere target practice 
for them. We entered the National Cemetery, hal- 
lowed as the resting place of thousands upon thou- 
sands of our men, collected from all the battle- 
lields and hospital grounds of this region. 

Two companies of infantry are stationed here, 
and details of men were even burying the collected 
dead. The flag they had died for waved over 
them, and the horrible looking buzzards were 
slowly and lazily circling in the air. 

We raised the lids of some of the boxes and saw 
the skull, the bones, some tattered blue rags, 
socks, a mat of hair — nothing more. Great care is 
taken in collecting these remains to preserve all 
the marks upon the boards at the heads of the 
fallen ones — rudely cut are they with knives, 
scored upon tin, or marked with pencil, and where 
but a portion of the name is found, it is religiously 
preserved and painted upon the neat white boards 
at the head. Side by side the thousands lay, not 
by States as at Gettysburg, but just as found and 



FREDERICKSBURO. 101 

brought from the field. A mound was upon each 
grave, made in a mould of a peculiar clay, the 
color of Milwaukee brick and very hard and dur- 
able, and then neatly sodded over all. We found 
the men who had taken the bodies from the pit of 
the ice house, and from the trenches near the 
ground occupied by the 145th, and diligent in- 
quiry could elicit no tidings of the bodies of Rib- 
let or Clay. They constitute units of that vast 
number marked simply, "U. S. Soldier unknown." 

Down through the old town we passed again 
amid the wildnerness of white lilacs, the twittering 
of the martins, the sweet odor of blossom- laden 
trees. Many of the houses, in their outward ap- 
pearance, much resembled the "Old Baird House" 
on Fifth street. We went to our hotel for dinner. 
Here, ^' en passant," we ate the best bread we ever 
remember to have seen, and drank as good water 
as there is in the world. 

After dinner, in company with a young man of 
the hotel, and a mean Yankee driver from "York 
State", we started up the river to the ferry. We 
drove upon the flat to cross the Rappahannock, 
when a fine looking fellow on horseback galloped 
down the road and on to the boat — he was a study. 
Throwing his leg over he slid gracefully from his 
horse and stood with his arm about the neck of the 
animal. He was clad in a suit of Confederate gray, 
minus the buttons — bowed pleasantly to an acquain- 
tance, and began talking of fox hunting over in 



102 VIRGIN J A BATTLE-FIELDS, 

Stafford county. He had a grand face and figure 
and when our boat grated on the gravelly' beach on 
the hither side of the river, among the clear quartz 
pebbles (a feature of all this region), he mounted 
his horse with such ease, — and galloped away. I 
could not control my eyes from following him in 
admiration. They said he was a Major in the Con- 
federate cavalry. 

Out throusrh the familiar streets of old Falmouth 
we rode. In front of a corner grocery I saw an 
old colored man, grey-haired, with a long army 
overcoat reaching to his heels, a cob pipe in his 
mouth. I declare to you I saw him in that spot 
with that dress and pipe, his arm raised in gesture, 
in the winter of ^62. At the top of the hill, a mile 
back, the Colonel and I got out and started alone 
for the old camp ground of fhe 145th. But one 
solitary pine remained upon the field, and that 
once smooth camp-ground was covered with rank 
second growth from four to twelve feet high, ^'he 
ruins of the old quarters were still visible. Here 
were the Colonel's quarters, the Adjutant's, Mnjor 
Reynolds's, and I almost f\incied I could see Joe 
Descryver sitting there carving his pipe of laurel 
root. 

On this ground I had been awakened in the 
morning by the noises of camp — the clamor and 
neighing of horses and mules as they went in vast 
droves to the river for water ; then reveille brakes 
out in far distant camps over the hills, in jGife and 



FREDERICKSBURG. 103 

drum, and before the echo dies it is repeated from 
other camps with bugles, and a full band clangs 
out from French's headquarters near us, awaken- 
ing all to the routine of the day. The heavy pick- 
et-guard were passing gaily over the hills to the 
river, for, notwithstanding the deep depression of 
the army at this time, "joy always came with 
the morning". Kow all was as still as the grave. 
We lit our pipes, and sitting down amid the ruins 
of the Colonel's old quarters, dreamed over again 
the days of the dreary winter of '62 and '63. 



II. 

Fredericksburg. 

Leaving the old camp of the 145th Regiment, we 
descended the hill and stopped at the well-sweep 
of the old Fitzhugh place for a drink of water. 
Actual improvements were going on about the 
house and grounds. The owner was plowing in 
an adjacent field with two horses, and his sons 
were at work with him. The old plantation house 
and its appurtenances had escaped the ravages of 
the war, the place having been occcupied by Gen. 
Couch as his head-quarters. A New York man 
lived there — had bought the place, containing 376 
acres, for $5,000. We re-crossed the river; just 
above the crossing the river bed is wild and'rocky 
in the extreme. The water runs clear and rapid. 



lOJf VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

and presents all the characteristics of a ]N"ew Eng- 
land stream. This is the Falls of the Rappahan- 
nock; there is a grand water-power here. ' All the 
use I saw made of it was to turn the wheel of one 
craz}^ old grist-mill. What a place for a colony of 
northern workers — unsurpassed water-power, fine 
sand}^ loam soil on the Spottsylvania side — river 
and ocean communication — seventy miles to Wash- 
ington, sixty to Richmond by rail; splendid climate, 
oysters and fish of all kinds in abundance; an old 
settled country, and land within a circuit of ten 
miles selling for from four to twenty-five dollars 
an acre. We drove throusrh the town, — over a door 
we read '^ Male charity school, established in 1795," 
and the name of a newspaper established the same 
year. In that little " Inn " with swinging sign 
Fitzhugh Lee boards; on the ".commons" in the 
outskirts three different games of base ball are go- 
ing on, the crowd stands looking on. That's what 
is the matter here — there is so much " commons" — 
so many ^Mooking on." You hear no noise of 
hammers, no sound of saws tearing through the 
wood at the falls of this river nor in the town, 
only the low, dreary hum coming from the old 
grist-mill — nothing more. Passing a field, we saw 
some contrabands planting corn. Our young Vir- 
ginia friend, musing abstractedly, gives involuntary 
utterance to the thought within, and says, " My 
God! I never could drop corn." I cannot on 
paper express to you the depth of meaning of his 



FREDEBICKSBURG, 105 

expression. No! — he probably never will "drop 
corn," but young men from tlie free North, that 
he despises, will soon be down here dropping corn 
to some purpose. 

There are Southern miMi, and many of them, who 
accept the situation, and are at work might and 
main making the most of it, but the mnjority of 
them that I saw sit idly, and in sullen silence; and 
we shall never reach them but by taxing the land 
80 heavily that they will be forced to sell, and give 
willing men the chance to cultivate thi.^ fair heri- 
tage. Do this, and keep the military there long 
enough to put the blacks firmly on their feet, and 
the thing is accomplished. Plant a good strong 
colony of Pennsylvanians (they don't hate them as 
intensely as they do New York and New England 
people) in this country, numerous enough to make 
a society of their own ; show these people that 
there is a way of confining cattle within a certain 
range other than guarding them with a dozen 
negroes ; make them to know the difterence be- 
tween the work done by a team of Conestoga 
horses with a subsoil plow, and that of a negro 
with a single mule and a Watt plow, (which is like 
our cultivator or shovel plow in execution,) plod- 
ding lazily over the earth, just skimming the sur- 
face of it; hammer into them the superiority of 
a reaper and mower over the sickle and the scythe, 
and you will do them more good, and quicker, than 
forty cold-blooded, steel-polished Sumners will, if 



106 VIMOINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

they should continue to make speeches at them, 
from now until St. Tibb's Eve. 

But the leaven is working. Witness the man 
on the Fitzhugh phice, and others I might name. 
We saw a span of fine horses, hitched to a Newark 
was:on, ratthno^ throufi^h Falmouth. The driver 
looked alive, and acted as though he had some- 
thing to do. Our driver nodded to him ; we asked 
who he was: ^' He's a I^ew Hampshire soldier 
that stopped here and bought a phice when the 
war was over, and he's doing right smart." 

We drove to the tomb of Mary, the mother op 
Washington. It stands there still unfinished^ 
scarred all over with minie balls (for the battle 
raged fearfully here) and mutilated by vandal relic 
seekers. Soldiers of both armies have written 
their names, with the numbers of their regiments, 
all over its face. AIary Ball Washington died in 
1789, aged 85. She lived and died in Fredericks- 
burg. The house still stands in good condition. 
The Dobbins House on State street would be like 
it if it were a third larger, and painted white. 

The ledge of rocks near there on the river was 
her favorite resort for meditation and devotion, 
and presents just as wild an appearance to-day as 
when she sat in their solitude. Col. Fielding Lew- 
is married Elizabeth, a sister of Washington, and 
resided on this farm, and during the revolution he 
superintended the old foundry and arsenal mention- 
ed in my first letter. This establishment furnished 



FREDERICKSBURG. 107 

the appropriate outfit for Braddock's army in the 
okl war. Fieldino^ Lewis had two sons, George 
and Robert, and they had position, one as captain 
of Washington's life guard, and the other his pri- 
vate secretary. Gen. Hugh Mercer, of revolution- 
ary fame, lived in Fredricksburg. He fell at 
Princeton, and is buried in Christ church, Phila- 
delphia. Lewis Littlepage is buried here. His 
uncle Benj. Lewis induced Mr. Jay, our Minister 
at Madrid, to patronize him, and receive him into 
his family. ^'He volunteered in the expedition 
against Minorca under the Duke de Crillon in 1871, 
and afterwards accompanied the Count N^assau to 
the seio'c of Gibraltar, and thence to Warsaw. He 
was honored for many years with the esteem and 
confidence of the unfortunate Stanislaus Augustus, 
King of Poland, and was made b}' him ambassador 
to Ivussia. When he was in New York, in 1785, 
Mr. Jay arrested him for a debt of $1,000 for mon- 
ey lent years before. Littlepage took the Southern 
plan and challenged Jay. In the published corres- 
pondence Jay complained not only of the pecun- 
iary imposition, but also of other abuse, as he ex- 
presses himself, from the young man with my mon- 
ey in his pocket, and my meat still sticking in his 
teeth." So says Alden's Collections. 

Dismissing our driver, we walked far down the 
river to the Massaponnax, and viewed the ground 
of Franklin's encounter, where Meade of ourarmv, 
then in a subordinate position, made a splendid 



108 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

fight. He scattered Jackson's first line like chaff — 
fought the second splendidly — but, the old story, 
he was not supported, waited long and anxiously, 
and then fell back with heavy loss. Here M.ijor 
Pelham, the 3'oung Alabamian rebel, immortalized 
himself with his single gun, and Lee, so chary of 
praise, called him ''the gallant Pel ham," the only 
ofiicer, I liave been told, below the rank of Major 
General, specially recognized by Lee in his dis- 
patches of this battle. Back through the town 
to the hotel. In the bookstore window was 
the placard of Gilmore Simms' Southern [>oem3 
— pictures of Jackson, Lee and Davis — secession 
songs arranged for the piano, with appropriate illus- 
trations, a fine engraving of the burial of a young 
Confederate officer, who fell during the campaign 
in Maryland, wherein a lady appears reading the 
burial service at the head of the grave; back to the 
hotel, where we saw one of the landlords pay- 
ing a colored man some money. As he counted 
over the greenbacks he came to a grayback; you 
ought to have seen the colored man shake his head 
and drop tl^at bill ; "dat trash is done gone now." 
The Colonel proposed to revive his recollections 
of camp life, by going out to Chaijcellorsville that 
afternoon and spending the night on a bed of 
boughs beneath the pines in the wilderness, and 
finding our driver to make arrangements for the 
hire of his convej^ance, the latter gravely inquired, 
as he scratched his head, if we had sufficient stamps 



FREDERICKSBURG. 109 

to pay for the horse, in case we could not find him 
in the morning. We did not think we had enough 
for such an emergency. He said horses were scarce 
in that region, and the inhabitants not overly par- 
ticnhar. We concluded to defer visiting Chan- 
cellorsville until the next day. We passed an 
agreeable evening at the hotel talking with some 
Fredericksburg people who had fought against us. 
My friend the Colonel was taken for a rebel officer 
by a gentleman who had been on Gen. Lee's stafiT. 
He said he was a native Virginian, but was resid- 
ing in Geori^ia when the war commenced. He 
supposed it was "a ninety day affair", and being 
desirous of seeing his friends in Virginia, joined a 
Georo-ia res-iment as Suro-eon, and with an immense 
amount of baggage, and a fine outfit, including a 
negro servant, he started for the front. "Well," 
said he, "the aftliir ended with me at Appomattox 
Court House, and," with a laugh, "quite a while 
before the war ended, I found that extra baggage 
and a servant were very cumbersome, and I dis- 
pensed with mine." 

From this class of men everywhere in Virginia 
we received the most courteous treatment, and 
talked very freely with them of the great battles in 
these regions. They spoke particularly of the 
splendid manner in which our men marched out of 
the town of Fredericksburg upon that terrible 
plain, amid that red harvest of death. From their 
elevated and secure position they could look down 



110 VIIiGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

upon us, and as the red flames leaped like light- 
ning from the black mouths of the cannon of the 
Washington Artiller}^, Alexander's reserve artil- 
lery, and the division batteries of Anderson, Ran- 
som and McLaws, all around that vast semi-circle, 
and everywhere, tore huge pieces from our solid 
columns, exposing frightful gaps to view, — like 
magic the ranks closed up again and moved on. 

But the noble men of the 145th that ran the 
gauntlet of that fire of hell, and had passed the 
point w^here the guns above them were ineffective, 
because they could not be sufficiently depressed, — 
with the light of victory in their eyes, and immor- 
tal glory and honor upon their brows, raised their 
powder grimed faces in exultation to the heights, 
clenched more firmly their muskets, and with a 
wild cheer started for the crest; but the cup was 
dashed from their lips, when that awful volley of 
musketry, at close range from the stone-wall, 
proved more than their ranks of weary survivors 
could endure, and down they w^ent upon their faces 
in the dust. Lee looked from his eyrie on all this 
panorama, to the left, and to the right, and said 
to an officer, "It is well this is so terrible — we would 
grow too fond of it!" A high board fence running 
at right angles to the stone-wall, had divided the 
145th when in line of battle; companies B, K, C, 
and G, with Lieut. Col. McCreary, being on the 
left. The regiment was ordered to retire, but, in 
the roar of battle, this part of it failed to receive 



FREDERICKSBURG. HI 

the order; but toward evening they reached the 
city. The regiment had gone into the fight with 
^WQ hundred and thirty-one officers and men, and 
came out with three hundred and seven. Col. 
Brown and Major Lynch lay wounded upon the 
field. Lieut. CoL McCreary took a musket and 
fought l^with the left of the regiment. He and 
Coh Yon Schaick, of the 7th New York, were the 
only field officers in the entire Brigade not killed 
or wounded. 

When Col. Brown became conscious, he soon 
discovered that the day was lost, and weighing the 
chances, he concluded that transportation to Rich- 
mond in his condition would be certain death, 
while an attempt to reach the town then, as the 
rebels swept the plain, would be equally haz- 
ardous ; but desiring that his body might be in 
the hands of his friends, certain as he was at the 
time that Lis wounds were mortal, he met some 
one who supported him in walking, and while 
nearing the town he met the " Old 83rd" just wait- 
ing for the order to go in. The blood from his 
wounds had streamed to his feet, discoloring all 
his uniform; the pallor of death was on his face; 
and in this condition he tottered down the line of 
his old regiment; and when he came in front of 
the company he had commanded on the Peninsu- 
la, the caps came from every head, and with bated 
breath and utter silence they looked,, as they sup- 
posed, their last look at their old captain. Col. 



112 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

Brown was found in the cit}', in the evening, and 
Lieut. Col. McCreaiy detailed men who carried 
Lini across the river to the Phillips House, Gen. 
Burnside's head-quarters. 

Humphrey's division, after a heavy but inefFect- 
nal cannonade upon the stone-wall, was now order- 
ed in. They went with a rush, getting nearly up 
to the point of Hancock's advance, where they fell 
back leaving seventeen hundred behind of the four 
thousand that had gone in. Burnside now form- 
ed his old corps, the 9th, and determined to lead 
it in i)erson to the assault, but Sumner's eloquent 
pleadings saved him from the additional disaster. 

The 83rd were spectators of this wholesale slaugh- 
ter from the other side of the river, and, with the 
certainty of defeat before them, they were at three 
or four o'clock in the afternoon ordered across the 
river. Hooker and the other corps commander 
had advised against a further trial, but Burnside, 
who had ridden down to the river bank, had stub- 
bornly said "That crest must be carried to night." 
Over went the veterans of the 83rd — across the 
pontoons — out through the streets of the town, 
quite to the left, to the line of the 145th. It would 
be like moving out Holland street in the plan sketch- 
ed in our lirst letter. The houses at this point af- 
forded some protection, and if I rightly remember, 
the embankment of the rail-road to Richmond was 
of benefit to them, and darkness was beginning to 
settle down upon the field; a happy circumstance 



FREDERICKSBURG. 113 

for them as the batteries were now playing upon 
them. 

Breaking ranks to sweep around the houses and 
scale the fences, they reached the open plain, and 
the fragmentary parts coming together again like 
a perfect machine, they moved rapidly to the front 
with heroic Vincent at their head, where they drop- 
ped upon their faces to avoid the enemy's fire. 
But the blessed night had come, and so had res- 
pite from the enemy's fire. 

Here they lay all that night with the wails and 
cries of mortal men in their agony, all around them. 
But all over the field, on that dark December night, 
relief parties were creeping, without light, of course, 
and groping in the darkness, calling in a low tone 
of voice on *' John," or ''Thomas," or '' William," 
whom they knew not to count as living or dead. 
There was a little group there from the 145th, and 
as they passed their hands over the cold faces and 
stiff forms of all that came in their way in their 
search for the lost ones, and pressed their faces 
down so that their, eyes peered into the dumb faces 
of the dead, doubts would come over them, and a 
match would be lighted, and a quick keen look 
would reveal a face dear to some one but not to 
the seeker; then the sharp ''ping" of a minie about 
the ears would come as a warning that the sleep- 
less eye of the picket was upon them. The 83rd 
remained here until the evening of the next day, 
having made in the night a partial cover, and se- 



lU VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

cured the advantage of a depression of ground 
near them. After remaining a few hours in town 
they were ordered back again. Before morning, 
however,. with great stealth, they were witlidrawn, 
and to their astonishment found that they covered 
the rear of the retreating army across tl»e Ilappa- 
hannock. The 83rd lost about forty in killed and 
wounded; among them was Ilaldeman, of Harbor- 
creek, true and brave, a sergeant in Capt. Austin's 
company. The 111th regiment were not etigaged 
in this battle, being absent in the up-country with 
Gen. Sigel. 

It is generally conceded that Burnside was in- 
competent as the leader of a great army. The re- 
port of the Congressional inquisition and most that 
has been written on our side show this fact. The 
accounts of the enemy are all one thing: "We set a 
trap, and Burnside made haste to walk straight in- 
to it, with his eyes wide open, and it closed upon 
him." 



III. 

Chancellorsville. 

When Hooker took command of the Army of 
the Potomac, it was in a very-demoralized condi- 
tion. The men of the army knew their power, 
and knew that if rightly directed it would be effect- 



CIIANCELLORSVILLE, 115 

ual to the end of suppressing the rebellion. Tliey 
had now had experiences with difterent comman- 
ders, and began to draw comparisons, and it is un- 
deniabl}^ true that their preferences were for the 
man who formed and moulded the army — General 
Me Clellan. But they gave up their first love and 
took kindly to Hooker. lie had made a fine com- 
mander in a subordinate position. lie had what 
Burnside entirely lacked — confidence in himself. 
Burnside Avas modest, and distrustful of his own 
powers. Hooker was not afilicted in that way. 
He grappled with a will with the task of remodel- 
ino- the army. He instituted the corps badges — 
borrowing the idea from Phil. Kearney — did away 
with the flapdoodle of grand divisions, gave gener- 
ous furloughs for merit, stimulated activity, put 
new life in the cavalry by giving it a distinct organ- 
ization, did it a world of good by exclaiming indig- 
nantly in council to its leaders, ^'Show me a dead 
cavalryman. I have not seen one during the war." 
He criticised with terrible severity the record of 
all his predecessors, and heaven knows he was n't 
wrono- there. He raised and restored the elan of 
the army, and when ready to move, in his " pro- 
bulgous" style, he announced to the country that 
" he led the finest army on the planet." He reviv- 
ed the drooping spirit of the nation, and, from the 
President down, nearly all thought the deliverer 
had come. But there were men in the army that 
knew the purity of gold from the glitter of brass, 



116 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 

and believed not in Hooker. His only great battle 
as a chief commander was Chancellorsville ; and 
for this wonderful field of conflict the Colonel and 
I started upon a glorious spring morning. 

It was precisely the time of year — to a day — that 
Hooker was marching to this place ; and the appear- 
ance of the country, the degree of advancement of 
the vegetation, were strangely suggestive, my friend 
said, of the time and circumstances of the move- 
ment of our army. The inn-keeper had given us an 
early breakfast of Virginia bacon and elegant corn 
bread, and passing the points where Col. Johns, of 
the 7th Massachusetts (a native and citizen of 
Erie), was wounded as he led his brigade, under 
Sedgwick, and carried the stone- wall and Mary's 
Heio:hts, and where the Southern Gen. Cobb was 
killed in the first fight, we reach the high ground 
and stop a moment for the beautiful view of the 
town, the Stafibrd hills, and the rolling land. 

Away down the lovely valley is St. Julian, the 
old Brooke homestead, where Washington and 
Randolph, Jefterson and others of the great men of 
Virginia, always stopped in passing up and down 
the river region. The Baylors, the Bernards, and 
the Taylors of olden time lived in this region. 
Oh ! it is full of interest. Down there is Moss 
Neck, the estate of the Corbins. Here was Gen- 
eral Jackson's head-quarters after the battle of 
Fredericksburg and during the winter. A portion 
of the country between the river and Chancellors- 



CnANCELLOnSVILLE. 117 

ville is finely cultivated, with some rather superior 
plantation bouses, all placed a third of a mile back 
from the road. Temporary fences bad been made 
along the highway and over portions of tbe farms. 
The}^ consisted of- cedar stakes driven into tlie 
earth rather close to each other, and then inter- 
laced with boughs of the cedar and the pine. The 
leaves exposed to the sun soon became a russet 
color, and presented an irregular and scraggy ap- 
pearance. But the magnificent crops of wheat 
which they protected made up a background of 
great beauty and promise. This ground had been 
occupied the entire winter and spring previous to 
the battle of Chancellorsville, b}^ the (Southern 
armj^, and the wliole surface of the country was 
cut up and seamed over by the countless wagon 
roads made in bringing supplies to the army. The 
forest and shade trees were entirely destroyed and 
the fences consumed; in fact, everything but the 
dwellings seemed to fare just as badly in the hands 
of the confederate army, as the Stafford region did 
from ours. 

An hour's ride brought us to Salem Church, and 
the entrenchments and marks of shot and shell 
showed us Sedgwick's extreme point of advance. 
A little farther and to the left is Tabernacle 
Church. These churches, including the Wilder- 
ness church west of Chancellorsville, are scarcely 
more pretentious than tbe old 3'ellow meeting 
house that long ago stood upon Sassafras street. 



tl8 VinaiNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

Near this point the Orans^e pUiiik road joins the 
ohi turnpike on which we are traveling, and both, 
for a short distance, occupy the same road bed ; 
then the plank road breaks away to the left, and 
blends with our road again at ChanceUorsville. 
We talked freely with the people all along the 
road, and found the white ones, of course, all rebel 
in feeling. "How d'ye do aunty?" — to two black 
ones — "you's free now, aint you ?" *'Day say I is." 
*'How d'ye like it?" ^'Right well." "Was you 
here when they were fighting?" "Nus sir; we 
'longed to Dr. Smith, lived 'way yonder; when the 
waw was dun gone, moved up yer. 'Course you 
know Dr. Smith ?" ''Howfar isit to Chancellor's?" 
"Dun know." Continuing our ride, with such oc- 
casional interruptions as just given, we proceeded 
for some distance, when the Colonel checked his 
horse, and looking carefully about him, thought he 
recognized the locality. "We certainly came to 
the top of this hill — where w^e ought to have stayed 
— and then double-quicked back again, and, yes, I 
do believe that at the foot of this hill you will find 
our advanced works where I was captured." 
Driving down the hill I almost recognized the lo- 
cality from my friend's frequent descriptions of it. 
The earthworks were still quite complete, although 
somewhat washed by rain. They lay directly 
across the road, and extended on either side into 
the .deep woods. Immediately in front of them 
the heavy timber had been cut, but in the wonder- 



CnANCELLOnSVILLE. 119 

ful luxuriance of the soil, the second growth had 
sprang up everywhere, varying in height fronvfour 
to twelve feet. Remains of uniforms, cartridge 
boxes, canteens, haversacks and some human 
bones lay in tlie trenches. Dead branches were 
hanging on all the trees, and all the bodies of them 
were scarred with shot and shell. 

Down we sat on the earth-works and my friend 
detailed all the events of the day at this point. 
In front of this advanced line and scattered all 
through the woods we found the graves of many 
of tlie enemy's dead marked with head and foot 
stakes, the pencil tracings obliterated and a tangle 
of second growth already covering them. I cut a 
hickory walking stick that had grown right out of 
the breast of some brave fellow of Mc Law's or 
Anderson's commands. In the condensed sketch 
of the battle hereafter given we will speak of the 
fighting at this picket line, where the 145th regi- 
ment avenged a portion of their losses at Fred- 
ericksburg. We now passed through Hooker's in- 
terminable earthworks, and emerging from the 
woods came to the open and elevated ground in the 
centre of which were the ruins of Chancellorsville 
House. There was no village here, nothing but this 
one house. Imagine the Hamot House on the bank 
of the lake to be nearly twice the size that it is, 
and standing in a large, open plain, devoid of roof, 
windows or doors, and the marks of conflagration 
discoloring the leaden tint of the building, and 



120 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

you have Clinncellorsville House. Standing on the 
massive and hroken stone steps in front, this was 
what met the eye : 

An open plain all about the house in every di- 
rection, then a dense, dark mass of jag^^ed and 
stunted pines and scrub oaks as close together as it 
is possible for them to grow, then the narrow roads 
like great ash-colored serpents winding tlirough 
the black forest. AVe faced a road leadins: down 

CD 

to Catharine Furnace, which was nearly two miles 
in front, and to the right. To the left were the old 
Turnpike and the Orange plank road, both leading 
to Fredericksburg; to the right, and near Melzi 
Chancellor's (which is about a mile west,) these 
roads again separate and pass westward. Making 
a full about face, and passing to. the rear of Chan- 
cellorsville House you face a road leading directly 
to United States Ford, and to your left is a road 
leading to Ely's Ford — both on the Ilapidan. 
Earth-works in proper form and of vast extent sur- 
rounded the open place, and we found them far 
out in the Wilderness, where from the density of 
the thickets, men must have twisted and crawled 
like snakes to their positions at the defences. I 
picked up a round musket ball as I stepped upon 
the stone porch in front of the house. It is said 
Jackson's men fired these round balls with the ad- 
dition of three buck-shot to a charge. 

Broken crockery, slate from the roof, canteens, 
and tattered uniforms of blue, gray and butternut' 



CHANCEL L OliS VI L LE. 121 

were scattered around, and rank second s^rowth 
choked np portions of the space within the walls. 
A flock of yellow birds twittered in these bushes ; 
other than that there was no sign of life in or 
about Chancellorsville. We continued our drive 
to the west along the ohi Turnpike, and after rid- 
ing about a mile stopped in front of Melzi Chan- 
cellor's, a ramblino^ old Yirs^inia farm house with 
the chimneys outside of the buildings. Entering 
this house, which will be mentioned in history for 
all time to come, Mrs. Chancellor bade us be seated. 
We made known the object of our errand and 
asked for her husband. lie was absent preach- 
ing tliat day at the "Yellow Church," and she ex- 
pressed a regret a,t his absence, assuring us that he 
would take pleasure in showing us over this his- 
toric ground. The partitions of the apartment 
in which we were seated were of boards, lime- 
waslied, and the ashen floor was a model of clean- 
liness. A single strip of carpet was spread on 
the hearth before the broad fire-place, above which 
were suspended a large and elegant photograph of 
Gen. Lee, and engraved porti'aits of Stonewall 
Jackson and Jefl*. Davis. This house was the 
head-quarters of General Howard, temporarily in 
command of the unfortunate 11th corps. Mrs. 
Chancellor spoke well of General Howard's kind- 
ness and courtesy, described the disastrous and 
disgraceful rout of the 11th corps as they stream- 
ed past her house, and the rush and wild yells of 



122 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

Jackson's men in pursuit. She mentioned Leo, 
Jackson and Maj. Von Borcke as having been at her 
house; gave a vivid description of the appnlling 
artillery' tire, right down this road where Jackson 
was wounded ; gave all the details and miiiutise of 
that affair, just about as Esten Cooke and Dabney 
have given them. "After the battle" said she, "I 
went to Mrs. Chandler's, at Guineas Station ; she is 
my sister. Gen. Jackson was taken there, and 
died at my sister's." We were mucli pleased with 
the lady-like bearing and courtesy of Mrs. Chan- 
cellor. 

- The 3'oung ladies of the house had vanished up- 
on our ap[)roach, but we found them on the porch 
in front of the house when we took our leave, and 
getting the localities anew from Mrs. C. of the 
ground directly in sight, we bade her good bye, 
and stopping a moment to look at the Wilderness 
Church across the road and further w^est, we pass- 
ed hack to the spot where Jackson was wounded. 

Walking into the woods at the point designated 
by Mrs. C, we noted the terrible effect of the 
storm of artillery directed by Pleasanton. The 
ground was thickly spread with violets of a most 
beautiful blue, where this great man of the South 
had fallen. We now moved southward, toward 
Catharine Furnace, noting as we drove to and fro 
the wonders of the Wilderness. This region, 
which we have tried to describe to you, was the 
scene of the principal fighting. Hooker made a 



CEANCELLORSVILLE. 1^3 

great mistake in sending away his ten thousand 
cavalry to operate in Lee's rear and cut off his re- 
treat to Richmond. Their work was of small mo- 
ment, and all the damage done was repaired in 
two days after its infliction. Bntthe country was 
not slow to recognize the brilliancy of Hooker's 
initiatory movement in the battle of Chancellors- 
ville. lie was well over before discover}', and his 
admirable plan of detour, and crossing high up the 
river, and uncovering the lower fords by rapid 
marching down the stream, on the enemy's side, 
giving undisputed crossings for the diflierent corps, 
puzzled Stuart, who hung upon his flank, getting 
in whenever he could to feel Hooker's strength 
and the character of liis movement. 

Meanwhile Sedgwick's demonstration at the 
lower fords, with the 1st, 3rd, and 6th corps, de- 
tained Lee and Jackson at and near Fredericks- 
burg so long that beft)re they were scarcely aware 
of it Hooker was upon their flank and rear. Sedg- 
wick had grandly massed the flank movements. Lee 
was effectually misled by Sedgwick's movements. 

Mr. Mc Dougall, an English writer of repute, 
published after the battle this account : "* * * * 
The four divisions of Sedgewick and Reynolds 
reriiained on the north bank, and an ingenious 
ruse was practised to deceive tlie enemy into the 
belief that the greater part of the Northern army 
was there massed with the intention of cross- 
ing. It is to be noted that, from the configura- 



12J^ VIRQTNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

tion of the p^round, the enemy could not see the 
bnd«j^es, neitlier could they see the four divisions 
on the north bank, which were behind the fringe of 
hills aforesaid. These troops were then put in mo- 
tion, and, mountino- the ridge, which, sloping both 
ways, served as a screen, marched along the top 
in full view of the confederates, and then dip- 
ped down out of sight towards the bridges. Instead 
of crossing these, however, they turned back 
through agull}^, round through the rear of the ridge, 
round again on the top, and again disappeared from 
sight to play the same game — ,just the same ev- 
olution as is practised by the *brave army' on the 
stage of a theatre and with the same intent 
of deceiving the spectators as to their numbers. 
The like stage effect was practised b}^ the ar- 
tillery and wagon trains until the confederates 
had seen defile before them a force which they 
might well conclude to be the whole Northern 
army." Such, indeed was the effect, but it was not 
intentional. It was a mere transfer of the divisions 
of the sixth corps from the upper to the lower 
bridge to hold the position abandoned by the first 
corps. That corps had gone to Chancel lorsville to 
swell Hooker's numbers for the aggressive move- 
ment. The march was so ordered — advantage be- 
ing taken of the make of the ground — that only its 
arrival at the lower bridge could be seen by the 
enemy. 
, Carlyle says the fault of the day is too much talk 



GUANCELLORSVILLE. ' 125 

— too many words. In the parlance of the army 
we might render it "too much lip/.' and Hooker, 
who could not bring himself to be quietly content, 
must in the exuberance of his joy burst out as follows 
in General Order ISTo. 47 : "It is with heart-felt satis- 
faction that the Commanding General announces to 
the army, that the operations of the last three days 
have determined that our enemy must either inglo- 
riously fly or come out from behind his defences and 
give us battle on our own ground, where certain 
destruction awaits him." Old salt-water Cap, in 
Cooper's Pathfinder, dogmatic and self-opinionated 
as he was in the extreme, was not above learning 
even from Jasper Eau-douce, an Ontario lake sail- 
or, and we venture to say that if very many of our 
Generals will study the dispatches of Lee and Jack- 
son they will learn something of modesty and good 
sense, something of brevity and plain English. It 
is also noticeable that in very many of the orders 
and reports of our Generals there is a strange ab- 
sence of the expression of reliance upon the Lord ; 
and in congratulations upon success, the valor and 
courage of our troops is properly lauded, but no 
allusion is made to the Lord of Hosts — the God of 
battles. 

Hooker with fifty thousand of his force bivouacked 
at Chancellorsville Thursday night, 30th of April. 
The Chancellorsville tract contains eight hun- 
dred and fifty four acres — two hundred and fifty 
acres of which are cleared, and this quantity of 



12G VinaiNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

cleared land lies about and next the house. As 
Hooker passed around the points afterwards occu- 
pied by his lines in this strange, dark and gloomy 
region, and viewed the admirable situation of the 
ground as a purely defensive position — the dense 
wilderness all around him affording him almost 
the advantages of an impassable morass, with the 
ability to crowd all the vast metal of his artillery 
in the roads which centered in his position, the 
thought probably first came to him of abandoning 
the offensive. Here, thought he, I will abide and 
await the attack of the enemy ; securely entrenched 
on his flank and rear, he must retreat or hunt me 
out in these dark fastnesses. Here Lee will seek me 
stealthily, and fragmentarily advancing through 
this, worse than Mexican chaparai, the melancholy 
notes of the complaining birds of night, the whip- 
poorwills, like the German wood spirits and nixies, 
will lure him to the death with their fatally mu- 
sical tones. But Lee held a *Jack' in his hand, 
as we shall presently discover, fated to spoil all this 
nicely concocted game; and in these dark solitudes 
Hooker's men were destined to be stricken, and to 
fall like autumn leaves, and here their bodies lay 
bleaching in Heaven's dews and rains, greeting the 
eyes of their comrades a year after, when the victo- 
rious legions of Grant bivouacked on this fatal field 
on their march to the death of the rebellion. 



BATTLE OF CUANCELLORSVILLE. 127 

IV. 

Battle of Chancellor sville. 

When 3-011 and I are dead, and all the strong 
arms that gave blows to preserve the union of the 
States are turned to dust, the full history of the 
conflict will be written. Almost every man who has 
led a regiment is possessed of faets which lie will 
not give to print because of the living. A theme 
of great interest to the historian then to arise will 
be the battle of Chancellorsville. The details of 
this fight which we have gleaned, would be of in- 
terest to comparatively few, and we will content 
ourselves with a bare outline of events. 

We have seen the sjilendid condition of the 
Army of the Potomac previous to the battle. Let 
us now turn to its opponent, the Army of JS'orthern 
Virginia. Lee's Army ^vas in better shape than 
ever hel'ore,but was not as stroma in number. The 
spring opened fair for the Southern army. Its 
morale never was so flne as in the spring and early 
summer of 1863. Longstreet, with Pickett and 
Hood's divisions, was absent about Sufiblk it is 
true, but great improvements had been organized 
in the remainder of the army. The artillerj^ the 
staff and the engineer department had all been 
overhauled, reformed, and placed in first rate 
working order. Hooker himself testified : " Lee's 
infantry was always superior to ours in discipline. 



128 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

With a rank and file vastly inferior to our own, 
intellectually and physically, that army had, by 
discipline alone, acquired a character for steadiness 
and efficiency unsurpassed, in my judgment, in an- 
cient or modern times. We have not been able to 
rival it, nor has there been any near approximation 
to it in the other rebel armies." Hooker had more 
than one hundred thousand men, Lee not over sixty 
thousand. During the night of Thursday, 30th 
April, Sickles, with his corps, joined Hooker, who 
was at Chancellorsville. 

On Friday morning Hooker came out of the Wil- 
derness and made for the open country toward 
Fredericksburg, occupying the turnpike and the 
plank and 'river roads. Near Salem Church the 
advance of the enemy's force was met, and some 
skirmishing ensued. We lost probably a hundred 
men. Remember now, that Hooker and Sedgwick 
were not more than six miles apart and the enemy's 
small army was threatened by more than one hun- 
dred thousand men. To the amazement of Han- 
cock, Couch, Warren and Sykes, Hooker ordered the 
army to fall back. They begged, they exjDostulated, 
as far as inferiority of position would permit; but it 
did not avail. How the press would have rung the 
charge of treason if some other man had led the 
army ! Back to his den in the wilderness among the 
chincapins and scrub oaks went Hooker, flinging 
away the best chance for glory and good placed 
within the hand of man duriui^r the struo:iJ:le. Jack- 



BATTLE OF CnANGELLORSVlLLE. 129 

son and Lee slept that night very near the picket 
line on our left. Stuart, the bold, daring, restless 
Stuart, who had no rival in either ami}', until Sheri- 
dan like a blazing meteor shot up in sight, obscuring 
all lesser lights in either army, was far away around 
on our right, looking upon our miserable and 
shameful nakedness in that quarter. Saturday 
morning, Jackson with his three divisions, num- 
bering twenty-two thousand men, made his detour 
to the south to strike our vulnerable right. Keeping 
far down on the outskirts of the wood with the ever 
present Stuart and his cavalry fringing his flanks, 
and curtaining the movements, he was nevertheless 
discovered by Sickles near the Catharine Furnace, 
but not until the movement was a success. Thus the 
wilderness which was a shelter for Hooker, proved 
at the same time a curtain for Lee, to cloak that 
wonderful flank movement of Jackson. Meantime 
Hooker commenced again the issue of his bulletins 
announcing the enemy in full retreat and Sickles 
among them capturing prisoners. To assist in 
taking these prisoners, two brigades were sent, and 
one of them was actually taken from the 11th corps. 
At 4 p. m. this 2d of May, this w\as the situation : 
Hooker stood on the porch of the Chancellorsville 
House. On his left Anderson and McLaws were 
iisfhtino^ Hancock's advance line. Col. Brown, 
with the 145th, was in the open ground just at 
Hooker's left. Lookins; south he heard Pleason- 
ton's guns, and, the well directed volleys of Sickles 



ISO VIROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

and Slocnra. Right down there at Hazel Grove 
was the 111th. In his rear were two corps in re- 
serve, with them was the 83d. Why, in the name 
of all the saints, if he believed Lee was in full re- 
treat, did he not with his two idle corps, capture or 
kill that isolated force fighting him on the left. 
Far away to his right and still to the right of that, 
on a hill stood Stonewall Jackson, his glass in 
hand, looking down upon our unprotected right. 
No cavalry, no pickets were there. The 11th corps 
numbered eleven thousand five hundred men, four 
thousand ^^fQ hundred were Germans — Sigel's men. 
They faced south, save one brigade on the extreme 
right, which was facing west. The 11th corps 
were at supper, all unprepared for the coming 
storm. Jackson formed his line, sweeping forward, 
beating up from their hiding places the wild ani- 
mals of the wilderness, they making, madly af- 
frighted, into our lines. "Then the command b}^ 
bugles was heard, but with a stupidity unparalleled 
and inexplicable, no respect was paid to the warn- 
ing," until that wild rebel yell was heard accom- 
panied by the rushing tramp of thousands. Then 
away went the lltli corps, and the devil take the 
hindmost. 

Long years ago, old S., of West Millcreek, used 
to come to town frequently, and alwa^^s w^ent home 
pretty drunk, and with a full jug to keep up the 
enjoyment. He went home one day in this condi- 
tion, sitting upon some boards on the horse sled. 



BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE. 131 

His son Jim sat ahead driving. The road was very 
rough and fall of hubs and frozen lumps, and the 
jolting shook the old man about and loosened the 
boards until he settled away between them so far 
that his body began to come in contact with the 
lumps in quick and rough succession. Pretty 
drunk, and not exactly comprehending the situa- 
tion, he looked with that peculiar look of drunken 
imbecillity over one shoulder, and then the other, 
when, bim! he gets a fresh hoist and then calls 
out to his son : *' Whoa, Jim, hold on ! there's 
suthin draggin." Hooker heard the yells, the 
heavy volleys, and turning his eyes, after looking 
upon supposed victory at the south, to the west, 
discovered a wild and panic-stricken mob breaking 
out of the woods and streaming over the open 
ground, and concluded there "was suthin draggin." 
He now seemed to rally, and made quick disposi- 
tion to check this fearful state of affairs. Fifty 
pieces of artillery were soon playing upon the ad- 
vancing rebels, and Berry, with Hooker's old di- 
vision, went in, and with Sickles and Pleasanton 
turned the tide, but Berry laid down his precious 
life in the effort. It saved the whole right of the 
army, but more than that, immeasurably more than 
that, it deprived the Confederates of their greatest 
fighter — Stonewall Jackson received his death 
wound. The Army of xTorthern Virginia never 
afterward gained a battle, and when his life went 
out the success of the Rebel Army went with 



132 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

it. The 11th Corps was shelved, but that should 
not have signified, for Keyuolds came that night 
with the 1st Corps, and made the number more 
than good. But that night a new line was traced 
for us three-fourths of a mile in the rear. 

Sunday morning came, and Stuart had taken the 
place of Stonewall Jackson. With those under 
Slocum who opposed Stuart was our 111th regi- 
ment, and here fell young Kingsbury of North East. 
Sickles' Corps, Berry's Division of Slocum, and 
French's Division of Crouch formed oar right, the 
remainder of Slocum & Hancock's division of 
Crouch formed the centre and left, covering the 
two roads leading to Fredericksburg. But with 
two Corps idle, Hooker gave ground, and at 10 
a. m. the enemy had Chancellorsville. The rebels 
had advanced at every point save from the east, 
where Hancock's advance line was posted. " On 
the 2d of May," says Hancock, ^' the enemy fre- 
quently opened with artillery from the heights 
towards Fredericksburg and from those on my 
right, and with infantry assaulted my advanced 
line of rifle pits, but was always handsomely 
repulsed by the troops on duty there, consisting 
among others, of detachments from the 145th 
Pennsylvania, 62d New York, and 2d Delaware 
under Col. Miles. During the sharp contest of 
that day the enemy were never able to reach my 
line of battle, so strongly and successfully did Col. 
Miles contest the ground." 



BATTLE OF CHANCELLORSVILLE. 133 

Col. Miles was wounded, however, on Sunday 
morning, and was carried from the field. The 
morning advanced nearly until noon, and Col. 
Mc Creary continued the obstinate defence of 
Miles, but at length he discovered bullets coming 
into the trenches among the men from the rear. 
A man was sent back to warn our friends that 
they were firing too low — the man never returned. 
Another and another were sent, the bullets coming 
thicker and faster from the dense woods in the 
rear, but with no better result. 

More than an hour before this time Lee had 
reached out his left hand, clasping Stuart's right, 
and they had pressed forward along the whole line, 
save in front of Hancock's picket line, which stood 
firm as a rock against every assault. But the pla- 
teau in their rear was occupied, the Chancellors- 
ville House was burning, and our brave boys were 
receiving volleys from both front and rear. An 
ofiicer in gray stepped from among the trees in the 
rear and demanded a surrender. Col. Mc Creary 
declined, upon which the ofiicer informed him that 
if he wished to fight the entire Confederate army 
he could be gratified, as they were then in possess- 
ion of our position. Every tree in our rear now 
gave Up its man in gray. Resistance was useless 
and our men were marched to Richmond. 

Swinton sa3-s that amid much that was dastardly 
at Chancellorsville, this defense shines forth with a 
brilliant lustre. I saw the graves of the dead Ala- 



134 VinaiNIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

bamians and Georgians thickly covering the 
ground in front of the skirmisli line of the 145th. 
Our boys had avenged the death of their comrades 
at FrederickshuriT. 

Lee now pressed his opponent hard, and as his 
clenched fist rained heavy blows upon Hooker's 
bowed head, a courier thrust a dispatch into his 
hand, announcing to him that Fredericksburg was 
lost— the heights stormed and carried — Early de- 
feated and Sedgwick moving upon his rear. Lee 
promptly turned to confront the new danger. Did 
Hooker seize the new offer fortune made him ? 

Sedgwick fought with Lee in front and Early in 
the rear, until his small force was crippled by a loss 
of four thousand six hundred men, but no help 
came from Hooker. The order came to recross 
the river, the officers indignant at the disgrace un- 
necessarily entailed upon the army, and devoutly 
praying that the rising fioods might sweep away the 
pontoons and save the honor of the Army of the 
Potomac. 

^'General/' said I to that gallant soldier who acted 
as Hooker's Chief-of-Staff upon this occasion, ''I 
never talked with any one who fought at Chancel- 
lorsville that did not say that w^e should have 
whipped them." "So we would, sir, if Gen. Hook- 
er's orders had been obeyed," was his reply. 

The Colonel of the 111th, our own honored 
townsman, said to me in his quiet, truthful way, 
slowly shaking his head, "We had no fight at 



VISIT TO PETERSBURGH. 1S5 

Cbancellorsville," and his words are but an epitome 
of all the rest. The historian will not lay fault up- 
on the leader of the Gth corps. 

John Sedgwick has passed beyond praise or 
blame. Death came to him in the tangled meshes 
of this wilderness region a year later. He sleeps in 
an honored grave, and no message comes from the 
world to which he has gone, but his good name is 
left to us a legacy to guard forever, and his country- 
men will be faithful to the trust. 



V. 



Visit to Petersbnrgh. 

Standing on a flat car one day at the Petersburg 
depot, we were amused at a wild refrain chanted by 
some colored laborers. They were rolling some 
immense casks of leaf tobacco up an inclined plane 
upon a dray. I suppose this inclined plane must 
have been at an angle of forty-five degrees, for 
who ever heard of an angle expressed by any other 
figures than "45°?" Whenever a particular point 
in the metre was reached, the cask by the united 
efi'ort moved ahead and then stopped as suddenly 
as a hod carrier in his work when the town clock 
strikes twelve. In the midst of this enjoyment the 



136 VlliGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

whistle sounded, and we jumped aboard the train 
for Petersburs:. All alons: the line of the road 
wherever a good natural position afforded itself, 
it had been seized and improved by art in a line of 
defense ao^ainst the invadino^ Yankees. To the 
right and the left these long lines of earth stretched 
away as far as the eye could reach, until one was 
fairly wearied with the sight of them. In due time 
we crossed tlie Appomatox, and were in the Cock- 
ade City. We encountered "an ancient and fish- 
like smell" in the densely built streets in the lower 
part of the city. Passing a building where my 
friend had passed a night in prison prior to his de- 
parture for Macon, Georgia, in June, 1864, we 
struck out of town and headed for the Avery plan- 
tation. The weather w^as hot, but we walked brisk- 
ly on, mile after mile, among the interminable 
earth works. There were no fences, but few houses, 
and nothing broke the monotony oi earth and sky 
save earthworks, forts, and epaulements. It seem- 
ed as though all the men in the country had gath- 
ered in this region, and had been using shovels and 
spades during the whole term of their natural 
lives. 

The work of defence upon all other fields which 
we had visited dwindled into insignificance when 
compared with these, l^either line seemed to have 
any advantage over the other in strength of con- 
struction, and it was easy to account for the long 
dead-lock at this place. The first point of neutral 



VISIT TO PETEIiSBURGH. 137 

ground we struck was about the width of State 
street, and behind the eartliworks at that distance 
apart were posted the pickets of both armies. An 
endless number of covered ways and zigzag under- 
ground passages led to the main line at the rear. 
These passages were so numerous and ample that 
whole brigades could easily and speedily be thrown 
to the front or safel}^ and securely retired. The 
main line was an immense embankment of earth- 
work stretching as far as the eye could see. Some 
rods in front of this was a line of chevaux-de-fi'ise, 
over which no man could go ; then came posts hold- 
ing three or four lines of telegraph wire, a de- 
lightful thing for a storming party to encounter. 
Behind that, and set at a proper angle in the em- 
bankment, was a bristling wall of second growth, 
denuded of all leaves and twigs, and each limb 
pointed as sharp as a nail, and behind two such 
lines as these were the men in blue and gray. In 
the rear of this line was Grant's railway from City 
Point. 

There is one thought that will enter the mind 
of every man who will go down into Virginia and 
look upon these battle-fields, and that is, the extreme 
modesty of the brave men who have come back to 
us from the field, in their stories of the hardships 
of camp life. IsTo pen can convey an idea of the her- 
culean task which the eye notes and comprehends 
in Virginia. Oh ! my friends, we who entered not 
into these glorious and stormy duties, be it ours to 



138 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

shield the memory of the dead, to honor wlnle we 
live the remnant of the brave, and teach our chil- 
dren to bless their names. Let ns never withhold 
any good thing that we may be able to give these 
men — the wounded, the sick, the fearfully- stricken. 
Give the living the places of honor, of profit, and 
of ease, for they belong to them by right; raise the 
marble high towards Heaven, commemorative of 
the deeds of the dead. See to it that you are a 
husband to the widow, and a father to those who 
are m.ade fatherless by reason of devotion to coun- 
try. Pennsylvania stands above reproach in this 
respect, and generously educates and nurtures all 
who will come within reach of her outstretched 
arms. 

Let us for a moment imagine a return of the 
past. Here, but a few short months ago, in front 
of these apparently invulnerable fortifications, lay 
the men of the 83d and 145th with tens of thous- 
ands of their comrades, hammering by night and 
by day at this stronghold, and looking and waiting 
for the end. Our other regiment, the 111th, was 
with the noble army of Sherman, marching from 
the mountains to the sea. In the lull of the now 
almost perpetual battle, and far awa}^ from the 
broad savannas of the South, there comes a sound 
like a phantom echo, "they are coming." It reach- 
es with joyous distinctness the ears of our brave 
men at Columbia Prison, and Mc Oreary and Lynch, 
Lytic, Mc Intosh and Mc Cray turn their glad 



'VISIT TO PETERSBURGII. 139 

eyes to the South, 'Hhey are coming." It foils like 
the knell of doom npon the ears of their keepers, 
and like the jailor in Holy Writ, they tremhle, 
for "they are comins:." The men of the 83d and 
145th start from their heds in the sands of those 
lowlands of Yirs-inia, and now more distinctly, hot 
still far away beyond the Roanoke, the Cape Fear 
and the Santee, they hear the sound and thank 
God — "they are coming." 

Now all were gone from this place, and nothing 
bavins: life was visible, save some colored people, 
cuttino; willow twio-s for basket work. As we, 
worn and heated, began to near the Avery dwell- 
ing, the scene became quite southern in its charac- 
ter. A great number of "the people" were plow- 
ing, as usual with a single mule. Black women 
were passing out of the yard about the house, 
with bris-ht handkerchiefs wound about their heads 
and hoes upon their shoulders, going to the cotton 
field. We found the planter near his house, and 
the Colonel, informing him that he and his com- 
mand were captured upon this plantation, request- 
ed the privilege of examining the formidable works 
just in sight. "I remember it very well, sir," 
said the planter, "and I thought it strange that 
your small force should charge that fort, right 
across the open plain, without support. You killed 
a heap of our men, and they lay very thick on that 
cotton field. The house that stood then where 
this one stands now, and all the quarters of my 



IJ^O VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

people, were filled with our wounded. But I could 
see that you were so completely enfiladed b}' the 
upper fort, and the works leading to it, that you 
were "gone up," especially as you had no second 
line ; a good many of your own men hung back 
just beyond that swale where j^ousee the two trees, 
kQ.:' 

We went down and examined the vast works in 
this two hundred and fifty acre cotton field. I made 
a rough sketch of the ground, and we returned with 
the planter to the house. The women of the house 
fled at our approach, as usual, and the weather be- 
ing very warm, we drew chairs and sat upon the 
porch. "The evening of your capture, sir," (said 
he, addressing the Colonel,) "an artillery fire was 
concentrated upon our house, and the Confederate 
officer in charge ordered us to leave. My uncle, Mr. 
Avery, an old man of eighty-four, had just time 
to take down his watch from a nail, so hurried 
was our departure. I never saw the old house 
again," said he, "for the next day our men fired 
the place and fell back to another line. I did 
not again reach the plantation until the evacuation 
of Richmond." Ofterins: him some Richmond 
papers which I had, he received them with thanks, 
"although," said he, "I read no newspapers now. 
I don't care for politics; my business is to make a 
crop or two ; when that is done, I may look to see 
what is going on in the world." In reply to nu- 
merous questions, he spoke about as follows : "I get 



VISIT TO PETERSBURGH. IJ^l 

on rather better than mj^ neighbors. I pay my 
men punctually every Saturday night, and they 
will work if they are paid ; but they don't like me 
to go into the fiehi where they are at work — it 
savors too much of o]d_times and they get sulky. 

"The town niggers are very saucy. The other 
day one came out from Petersburg with a mule- 
cart, and went down into the w^oods there and cut 
a load of wood, and as he was driving up the lane 
and was passing the house, I went out and ordered 
him to throw out that wood. He reached down in 
his cart, and taking up a carbine and hiying it 
across his knee, he impudently looked me full in 
the face and said, 'Dem woods down dar is as 
much mine as dey is yours,' and raising the lines 
with a thrap on the mule's back he moved on to 
town. But with all the annoyance incident to the 
great change, I do better pecuniarily than when I 
owned slaves. Across this farm," said he, "and 
right by this door, Alexander Stephens and his 
party went to take cars for City Point and Fortress 
Monroe to meet Mr. Lincoln and Seward and talk 
of peace. We all supposed then that peace was 
coming. We knew the Confederacy was gone 
under, and then if our people had accepted your 
offer we could have had peace and saved some- 
thing, and by this time had a crop or two ; but we 
took the fool's part and lost all. A nephew of 
mine in Brooklyn started me here, for the war lost 
me everything but the land, and now I am com- 



IJ^ VIROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

mencing life over again." This man was the most 
sensible of any that I had met in Virginia, be- 
cause he was practical and accepted the situation. 

As evening drew upon us he called a boy from the 
field and bade him drive us as far as the church- 
yard near the town. This was much for the plant- 
er to do, for it took a horse and a laborer from the 
cotton field in a very throng time ; "the season 
was backward and work was behind." lie de- 
clined all compensation for the service, saying he 
was happy in being able to serve us, etc. It was a 
matter of debate in my mind whether, if my friend 
and I were visiting the fields of Saratoga or Lex- 
ington, any farmer in that region would have pur- 
sued the same course "to the stranger within his 
gates." 

Earthworks to the right, to the left, in front and 
behind us. We passed Burnside's horrid crater of 
death and soon reached " The Old Blanford 
Church." The sun was setting as we alighted from 
the carriage. The walls alone of the old church 
were standing, and they were entirely covered with 
ivy clear to the tops of the gables. The ivy had 
overrun all the large forest trees in the neighbor- 
hood of the ruin and reached to their topmost 
branches. This relic of bygone days stood in the 
midst of a cemetery thickly filled with graves and 
surrounded by a heavy brick w^all ivy-covered. All 
the bricks used for the church and wall were im- 
ported from England. The roof, doors and win- 



VISIT TO PETERSBURQH. IJ^S 

dows had long since gone to decay and we stood 
within the walls with the sky above us and our feet 
upon mother earth. While looking upon some 
names newly painted in column upon the w^all, a 
queer-looking old fellow that reminded me strongly 
of Scott's ''Old Mortality," appeared at a side door- 
way of the ruin and informed us that the names rep- 
resented old men of a companj^ formed in the town, 
for its defence, and that it had fallen during the 
late rebellion. This church dates back to 1733 and 
was contracted for at £485, current money of Vir- 
ginia. It was finished in 1754. The aisles were 
six feet in width and paved with white Bristol 
stone ; but every trace of interior arrangement ia 
long since obliterated. 

Getting our dinners in a saloon, where there was 
much drunken boastfulness of what had been done 
by the soldiers of the confederacy, we sat down to 
II Kichmond newspaper for dessert, reading an arti- 
cle on "The Old Virginia Gentleman." 

Every one knows, says the editor, what is signi- 
fied by the caption, but if the heading were " The 
Old Maine Gentleman," some explanation would 
be deemed advisable. 

It was near midnight, when, after threading the 
dark, crooked streets, we reached the depot. There 
was no waiting room, no light, but we found a col- 
ored man sitting in a box car with a lighted lan- 
tern. He politely opened a car and showed us in 
told us smoking was allowed, we need not throw 



lU VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 

away onr cigars, and offered to go to the Boling- 
broke House, many squares awaj^j-and replenish our 
stock of cigars. He had atone glance divined 
that we were Northerners, and told us with much 
warmth and fervor that he was always happy to 
wait upon our kind of people. A happy bridal par- 
ty with a troop of friends soon came on board the 
train. We heard the whistle of the approaching 
engine from Weldon, and in a few minutes were off 
for Richmond. 



VI. 

The Battle of Gaines' Mill. 

My last day in Virginia I had reserved for a visit 
to Gaines' Mill. There is no spot in the South 
possessing more melancholy interest to our people 
than this battlefield, and nowhere over the wild 
field occupied b}^ our armies was there a more 
deadly and unequal conflict for the mastery. 

It- is generall}^ conceded by the writers on both 
sides that on no other field was there so hot and 
continued a roll of musketry fire as here. It was 
the first general conflict of the army of the Poto- 
mac, and was mainly carried on by Fitz John Por- 
ter and twenty-seven tliousand men, against sixty- 
five thousand of the enemy. 



TEE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 1^5 

Taking a carnage, and the Mechanicsville road, 
we were soon passing through line upon line of 
earthworks for the defence of Eichmond. These 
works consisted of three lines a mile apart, and 
reaching in avast semicircle from river to river. 
A perfect chain of forts made with bomb-proofs, 
were placed along each line within supporting dis- 
tance of each other, and all constructed in a most 
finished manner. The slaves v/ere pressed into the 
service of the rebel government by tens of thou- 
sands in the construction of these works, which were 
for the defence of a policy that was to rivet forever 
the fetters of shavery upon them, but the boys in 
blue entered their strong-hold, and Abraham Lin- 
coln struck the manacles from their limbs, and 
paved the way to their ultimate and perfect free- 
dom. 

The Chickahominy in ordinary stages is an in- 
different stream running through a very broad 
valley, which after continuous rains is converted 
into an almost impassable morass. 

Passing this valley, which to our army was in- 
deed that "of the shadow of death," we soon 
reached Mechanicsville, a mere hamlet, but noted 
as being the scene of the fight of the Pennsylvania 
Reserves under Mc Call on the day prior to the bat- 
tle day at Gaines' Mill. A little farther along and 
we came to Ellerson's Mill, a building about the size 
of one of the old slaughter-houses in the Millcreek 
valley twenty years ago. Seymour was stationed at 



1^6 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

this mill. Ill fact, be aiid Rej^nolds with six thous- 
and men foiiglit and whipped five brigades of 
twelve thousand. We had the advantage of posi- 
tion and lost three hundred, they losing one thous- 
and five hundred. Coming out of this mill we saw 
a most wretched looking old man with a grist upon 
his back, lie was blind, and held a stafiT in his 
hand. A wliite-haired, pale-faced little girl guided 
the poor old man. They were "piney woods peo- 
ple," known generally as poor white trash. 

We stopped a moment at Walnut Grove Church. 
Here in the woods, about the church, beside the road, 
every-where, were dead rebels. Our own men had 
been raised and buried in the National Cemetery at 
Cold Harbor. The Richmond Ambulance Commit- 
tee, an association similar to our Christian Commis- 
sion, had placed white boards at the heads of their 
dead, giving the name and regiment of all as far as 
possible. Down this road, skirted with cedars.we 
went. It was riglit along here, between Walnut 
Grove Church and Gaines' Mill, that the 83d bi- 
vouacked on the night of the 26th of June, 1862. 
Five hundred and fifty of them laid themselves 
down to dream of home and the conflict sure to 
come on the morrow. The next night, like, chil- 
dren deprived of a parent, shattered and broken, 
they encamped on the other side of the river, two 
hundred and ninety-five in number. McLane, 
Vincent and I^aghel, where are they? Though 
their faces are no more seen upon earth, and the 



THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 1J^7 

laurel has faded and fallen from their brows, let us 
trust that their feet tread the golden streets of 
Emanuel's land, their features radiant with the glo- 
rious light reflected from the face of Him who died 
that thej might live, and their brows surmounted, 
not with the perishing laurel of earth, but wreathed 
with the white immortelles that fade not, because 
they bloom bes.ide the waters of the river of life. 

Gaines' Mill stood in' ruin, the skeleton of the 
great wheel within, and the whole interior choked 
with weeds. A little farther along and at a cross 
road we turned into the pine woods, a swarm of vil- 
lainous looking fellows coming out of a grocery 
dressed in their graj' uniforms, some with empty 
sleeves, and scowling at us as we passed. Passing 
down a hill we came upon old earthworks of 1862. 
At the top of the hill we found the more recent 
works of Grant, he having fought over this field 
two years later. It was beginning to look famil- 
iar, the make of ground agreeing well with the 
account of Jndson and other historians of the Pen- 
insular campaign. Getting out of the carriage I 
went into a tobacco field where men of both colors 
were busy at work, and approaching an elderly 
man having an honest-looking face, I informed 
him that I was here from the North to look at 
this battle-field; that the ladv in mournino: dress 
in the carriage was the widow of an oflacer who 
had fallen on the field — that she was anxious to 
visit the ground where her husband had lived the 



U8 VIRQINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

last days of liis life, and met his untimely death. 

I was fortunate in meetins; this man. It was Mr. 
Magee, and this farm of his on which we stood 
was the theatre of stirring events, and his name 
was often mentioned in correspondence from the 
battle-fields both in the days of Mc Clellan and 
of Grant. These vast works that surrounded us 
were Grant's. Mc Clellan had been ridiculed — 
whether properly or not I shall not pretend to say 
— as the hero of the spade and shovel, but his 
earth-works in this region bore no more propor- 
tion to Grant's than the Fifth street sewer will 
to Mr. Lowry's gunboat canal. The trenches of 
the picket lines were not thirty feet apart, and 
in places even this distance was sought to be less- 
ened by tunneling. All around us was the debris 
of the battle-field, and the plow in the furrow, we 
noticed, was continually choked with rags of blue 
and gray, bent ramrods, old haversacks, &c. 

Taking refuge under a beech tree from the 
burning heat of the sun, I asked Magee to point 
out the left of our line on the Gaines' Mill field. 
*'You are asking for the position of Batterfield's 
Brigade," said he ; "that was the finest body of men 
in Mc Clellan's army. I was often in your lines 
before the engagement and was always courteously 
treated. An old neighbor of mine, who was fear- 
fully afflicted and all drawn out of shape with in- 
flammatory rheumatism, went into Butterfield's 
lines one day for relief. Fitz John Porter sent for 



THE BATTLE OF QAINES' MILL. 1^9 

me and enquired concerning this man, and when I 
endorsed his industry and honesty, the men of his 
corps raised several hundred dolhirs and gave him, 
together with food to eat, and saved that poor 
man and liis family from want and misery, like true 
chivalric gentleman that they were. You called Fitz 
John Porter a traitor to your cause. I tell you sir 
no such fighting was done in these parts during the 
war as he did that day at Gaines' Mill. It seemed 
as thoui^h these men of Butterfield's on the left 
could never be whipped. The war is over now sir, 
said he, and lowering his voice — we may as well 
tell the truth : old Jackson liked not to got here 
because he took the wrong road, and if he hadn't 
have got in, we would have been awfully whipped. 
Why there w^as an old black man of mine you ought 
to have heard talk. He was in the cellar of a 
cabin off on the left yonder, and his curiosity got 
the better of his fears, and he crawled out to see 
the fight. He said every time our men went into 
the gully beyond Watt's house, they came out like 
as thousrh there was a hornet's nest there — then 
the blue coats would follow them out, then some 
more of we'uns would come up and you'uns 
would travel back, and so it was 'till near dark, 
when old Jack and Hood's men came up and 
broke your left." 

In asking concerning these repeated charges 
against Butterfield's bris^ade — which are matters of 
history — Mr. Magee called his son from the plow 



150 VIRGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

and said, ''He can tell 3-011 about theni.'^ The son, 
a modest, manly fellow, said he was in a regiment 
under Pickett. ^'Several charges on your left had 
been made when we were ordered in. It was tbe 
worst place I ever saw. We went in but we came 
out again in a hurry, and did'nt keer to go back. 
We then charged that battery that swept our ap- 
proach to your left, and we took it. I fought 
through the war except when I was a prisoner at 
Fort Delaware, and I never saw vour men fiofht as 
Butterfield's brigade did that day, excepting on the 
centre the last day at Gettysburg." Proud was I 
bej'ond anything I can express at this tribute from 
a former enemy to the valor of the 83d and their 
brother regiments. Seeing some newspapers in 
my pockets, Mr. Magee asked me if they were 
northern papers, and expressed a regret when I 
told him they were not. But I informed him that 
he could always find the Tribune and Times^ with 
the Herald and World, at the news-room in the 
Spottswood in Richmond. He said he had not 
seen a northern paper since the war, and was anx- 
ious to see how we felt towards them. 

Entering our carriage and driving through the 
pine woods among the graves — graves every- 
where — we soon ascended a little hill and ap- 
proached the Watt house, an old fashioned Vir- 
ginia double liouse with outside chimneys, stand- 
ing upon a bright greensward, surrounded hy high 
trees, with negro quarters all about the house. 



THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 151 

Here Major Is'agliel died from liis wounds after 
living long enough to direct tliat the body of Col- 
onel Me Lane be found and brought to the house, 
which was done. The house seemed tenantless. 
There were no curtains upcm an}- of the win- 
dows, the ghass was broken, and there was a gen- 
eral air of desertion and neglect about the place. 
Ascending a flight of Ave or six steps to the door, 
I knocked. A broken window was immediately 
at my left, and I could not but look in as I faced 
the door. I could see men and women and heard 
an^ry female voices addressed to the man who 
moved toward the door to answer our summons. 
"Drive them away," "Toll them to clear out," 
"Don't ask them in here," "Make them go away." 
There was a momentary muttering and caucussing 
carried on by some male voices. I stepped down 
upon the ground and feeling my "Wesson" safe 
on my hip, saluted the man of the house as he 
opened the door. Out he came with his ill-favored 
brood of sons, who looked us over much as a huge 
mastiff will circle about a stranger, looking for a 
place to take hold. The party were exceedingly 
surly and uncommunicative. "Mr. Watt did not 
live there now — there was nothing to be seen — 
there was no person buried there — we are busy 
and cannot go around with you." 

Yv e talked awhile ; I was smoking and offered 
him a cigar, whicli opened his mouth a little. (I 
had left my flask of Ilarrisburg whiskey of a vile 



152 VJIiOlNIA BATTLE-FIELDS, 

quality, at the Spottswood. I tliink that would 
have brought him. I discovered in the evening 
that it liad "brou«:ht" the colored servant on that 
floor of the hotel ; at least he was very tight, and 
my flask was empty.) The Lidy with unerring 
step left the carriage, and with her perfect knowl- 
edge led the way to the place where, under the 
tree beside the negro quarters, her husband and 
Major Naghel had been buried. Into the woods 
above the house we went, the unwilling party ac- 
companying us. We were on the field where the 
83d had made their great fight. I noticed a human 
skull upon the grouiid. One of the sons picked 
it up and dropping it in disgust said, ''That's 
a Yank." The driver to relieve us, drew the boys 
away to the right, to look at Martindale's lines, 
and left us alone with the old man. The lady 
passed down and stood under the beech tree men- 
tioned by Judson in his history, while I with diffi- 
culty held the old man in conversation. "I was'nt 
here during the fight" said he, "in fact I had gone 
over to Amelia C. H. with Dr. Gaines' niij^o^ers to 
keep you'uns from getting them. The boys saw 
the fight and they said the Irish fought awful." 
"What do you mean by the Irish?" said I, "Why 
Butterfield's men were Irish," said he. "They 
were not," said I. "Meagher's brigade were a 
separate body of men and never came on the field 
until dusk that evening, when they came with 
Sumner's men to cover our retreat." I found it 



THE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 153 

everj'where in Virginia the habit, wherever any 

splendid tigliting was done to accredit it wholly to 

Meagher's brigade, so determined are these people 

to give the Northern men no credit for the sound 

sconrgiiigs they received at their hands. It crops 

out in the writings of Pollard, Van Broocke and 

others everywhere, and is as living a libel upon our 

brave boys as Andrew Johnson is upon humanity. 

The valor of the Irish brigade is a matter of history, 

but the^^ have been put upon a hundred fields by 

rebel historians in positions which they never 

saw. "Well," said the man, "It was Buttcrfield's 

brigade at any rate, be they who they were, and 

if 3'our men in the centre had fought as well, we 

would have been licked. Over yonder, where you 

see that broom grass like, is where Hood's Texans 

made their great charge. But old Jack's coming 

up saved us." Again I experienced a feeling of 

deep heartfelt pride in telling this overseer of Dr. 

Gaines, that one of the regiments of that brigade 

was organized in my town, and owed its admirable 

discii)line to the husband of the lady then standing 

near where he had fallen in defence of his countrj'^ 

I might quote pages of rebel history to prove the 

desperate bravery of our men, but one or two items 

will suffice. 

Esten Cooke saj's: * * * "Such was the des- 
perate aspect of aftairs on the field about five in the 
evening. The Federal troops had repulsed every 
assault, and the descending sun threatened to set 



15 Jf VIROINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

upon a day memorable in the annals of the South 
for bloody and disastrous defeat. One man. alone 
could reverse this picture of ruin. Jackson came, 
pronouncing it in my hearing the most horrible 
fire of musketry he ever heard." Prof. Dabne^^ of 
the Union Theological Seminary of Virginia, says 
of our left: "Longstreet was bringing up his divis- 
ion to storm this desperate line,, and after other 
brigades had recoiled, broken by a fire under which 
4t seemed impossible that aii}^ troops could live, 
was just sending in his never failing reserve, Pick- 
ett's veteran brigade. These troops, after advanc- 
ing heroically over the shattered regiments of their 
friends within point blank range of the triple 
lines before them, unfortunately paused to return 
the fire. As they stood there decimated by every 
vollej^, unable to advance, but too courageous to 
flee, then the brigades of Hood and Whiting were 
launched against the Federal lines on the left — the 
line was carried, but a thousand men fell in death 
in that siuirle chari^e." 

Hill, and Pender, and Archer, all speak in their 
ofiicial reports of their utter inability to break our 
left. Whiting, of Jackson's command, who came 
to their relief, says: "Men were leaving the field 
in great disorder in every direction; two regi- 
ments, one from South Carolina and one from 
Louisiana, were actually marching back from the 
fire. The 1st Texas were ordered to go over them 
and through them, which they did. Near the 



TEE BATTLE OF GAINES' MILL. 155 

crest, in front of us and Ij'ing down, appeared the 
fraofments of a bn2:ade. Men were sknlkinu: from 
the fi'ont in a slianieful manner; the woods on 
our left and rear were full of troops in a safe 
cover, from jvhich they never stirred. Still further 
on onr extreme right our troops appeared to be 
falling back. The troops on our immediate left I 
do not know, and I am glad I don't. Those that 
did come up were much broken, and no entreaty or 
command could induce them to come forward." 
The South Carolina regiment he speaks of sustain- 
ed in that charge a loss of seventy-six killed, two 
hundred and twent^'-one wounded and fifty-eight 
missing. ]N"o wonder they marched off the field. 

Turn to Judson's History of the 83rd for the 
Union account of the figlit. It is better given by 
a hero of the conflict than I can tell it. I have 
preferred to give you brief rebel accounts, sufficient 
without another word to immortalize the names of 
McLane, Vincent, Kaghel, Campbell, Brown, Ly- 
on, Woodward, Graham, Finn, Austin, Reed, Jud- 
son, the Wittichs, Yannatta, GofF, Kogjers, Duggan, 
Sell, the Ilaldermans, Hunter, Whittlesey, Clark, 
Terrel, and a host of others of our townsmen that 
helped to §trike these heavy blows upon the ene- 
my. At night, the last to leave, when all hope 
was gone, they waded through the morass of the 
Chickahomin}' — the bridges having been taken up 
under the supposition that all were over — and laid 
themselves down in the woods with their eyes turn- 



156 VIUGINIA BATTLE-FIELDS. 

ed in the direction of the fatal field, where, under 
the pines, the forms of their brave leaders and 
comrades were cold in death. 

*'The mnffled drum's sad roll has beat, 

The soldier's last tattoo, 
No move on life's parade shall meet 

That brave and fjilh^n few; 
On Fame's eternal camping ground 

Their silent tents are spread, 
And glory guards, with solemn round, 

The bivouac of the dead." 

We met the driver upon our return to the house, 
entered the carriage and turned our backs upon 
this inhospitable region. The driver — who feign- 
ed to this man's sons that he had served in an 
Alabama regiment — received a lively account of 
how they had stripped the dead on this battle field 
of watches, rings and money, and informed us that 
they had proposed "to go through" our party. 
We re-crossed the river, and taking a new road 
were soon in Richmond, and were congratulated 
upon returning in safety from a vile region of coun- 
try. The next morning we took the steamer at 
Rockett's for Norfolk, where we changed boats for 
Baltimore. Just at nis^ht we made a Ian din 2: and 
went upon deck. Out in the darkness, against 
the sky, rose the walls of Fortress Monroe. Safe 
within was confined "the head and front of this 
ofiending." Black clouds curtained all the sky, 
the wind whistled throu2:h the riorofins: of the wa- 
ter-craft, dipping uneasily at anchor, and the an- 



THE BATTLE OF OAINES' MILL. 157 

gry waves lashed the shore. The waters, stirred to 
their depths, were casting their impurities against 
the walls which environed the arch traitor. 

Grass is growing green over the graves of thou- 
sands of brave men all over the land, that, bat for 
this man and his fellows, would be living this day. 
Wives and mothers turn their weary eyes to the 
South to-night in their dreams, looking for loved 
faces to be seen no more. This man stands be- 
tween them and their lost ones. Children by tens 
of thousands are deprived of protectors, and must 
struggle up to the light in a gnarled and stunted 
growth, with no friendly hand to lead, no fatherly 
voice to encourage. 

Blackened walls, gaunt skeleton-like stacks of 
chimneys mar the landscape everywhere. The 
roof-tree is charred and dead, its protecting branch- 
es shrunk and shrivelled, but it matters not, for 
the forms it sheltered are gone. Oh ! the thou- 
sand sights and sounds of the war that ivould arise 
that u\^\\t ! 

And now^ we dash across the angry waters to en- 
ter Chesapeake Bay. The lights of Fortress Mon- 
roe are fading from sight. Farewell to the scenes 
of conflict and carnage, and the tens of thousands 
of graves here in Virginia of those who have left 
us and have gone (let us say it with reverence) to 
that better country, where rebellion was quickly 
quenched, and treason as speedily and everlasting- 
ly punished. 



OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 



* THE JOHN ASHBOUGH LETTERS. 

I. 

A Boy's Walk around the Diamond. 

I am but a middle-aged man, and yet I note 
many changes about my home since I was a boy. 
What is now known as the Park was in that day 
called the Diamond. It was devoid of trees, and 
the old people worked many weary days to clear 
it, and some of them looked with disfavor upon 
the planting of trees, about 1846, in the same spot. 
There was quite a ravine extending from the place 
now occupied by the Park Church across the Dia- 
mond to the present Ellsworth House. There was 
a grass plot extending over the greater portion of 
the present East Park. In the West Park we had 
the court house, county offices, a little wooden 
building for an engine house, and a small market 
house of wood, afterwards removed to fifth street 
east of Holland. The old fire engine, so long hous- 

* These Letters were published in the Erie Observer in 
1873-4-5, and excited at the time a great deal of interest. 



A BOTS WALK AROUND TUB DIAMOND, 159 

ed in the other little building, lay for a long time 
in the ditch, overgrown with smart weed, upon 
Fifth street. 

Let us stop for a moment in front of the Stone 
Tavern, kept by Joseph Y. Moorhead, who suc- 
ceeded Robert Brown, who was in turn succeeded 
by James S. Clark and Barney Honeywell. That 
corner is alwaj's associated in my mind with dog 
fights. There was a large, old, stub-tailed, brindled 
doo: named Mars belono^insr to the Stone Tavern. 
He always went with the house and goodwill, up- 
on a change of owners, and he generally managed 
to have some differences of opinion to settle with 
every country dog coming into town. Then after 
the battle the idlers would give Mars pennies, and 
with them in his mouth he would go to John Ly- 
tle's grocery and buy crackers and cakes — placing 
his fore paws upon the counter and dropping the 
pennies, and then wagging that stub tail of his un- 
til he received the equivalent of his money. 

John Lytle rang the court-house bell at 7 a. m., 
12 m., and 9 p. m. each day except Sundays. 
Upon Sunday the court house was used occasion- 
ally by itinerant preachers of denominations with- 
out meeting-houses in the town. I remember to 
have stood upon this corner and listened to the 
pleasant description of Florida life in winter by 
Mr. William A. Brown, who had recently return- 
ed home with restored health. The loud laugh of 
"Bill Willis" comes from another group, where 



160 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

Mr. Lloyd, from the country, Geo. Moore, Thos. 
P. James, Thomas Dillon and Royal Freeman are 
talking politics in an excited manner. Boys are 
not interested in their discussions, and we walk 
along westward. The portly gentleman in broad 
brimmed hat, long black coat, wearing slippers 
and carrying a heavy hickory cane, is John Morris 
Esq, He came here from Berks Count}', and liv- 
ed in a house where the Park Church now stands. 
Upon the same lot was his hat shop and an old 
fashioned stone spring-house upon the side of the 
ravine. Mr. Morris was always followed by a lit- 
tle, long-haired, light-colored dog, the companion 
of all his walks. The brick house on the corner, 
latterly known as the Park House, was occupied 
by the Pev. Geo. A. Lyon, and a portion of the 
time by Henry Cad well. 

Across Peach street a lady is standing looking 
with admiration upon ii garden. Boy like, we go 
to see what is fixing her attention, and we discover 
Mrs. Morris, who says to us: "John, Mrs. Bab- 
bitt always has the nicest flower garden in Erie." 
We meet Mr. Eliot near his own house in conver- 
sation with P. S. V. Hamot, Esq. They were the 
same courteous gentlemen then as thereafter. They 
always had a pleasant word for us boys, and I know- 
that we had a kindly and respectful feeling for 
them during all the subsequent years of their lives. 

Corner of Sixth street and the Diamond was a 
fine place to play marbles, and here we find Dent 



A BOTS WALK AROUND THE DIAMOND. 161 

Johns, Ben Wilkins and John and William Eliot 
engaged in a game. That boy coming down Sixth 
street astride of that beautiful pony is John Doug- 
lass. We boys each wish for a pony like that one, 
and all of us have at our tongue's end a fable as to 
the cost of these ponies at Detroit and Mackinaw. 
Did we doubt it? ITo, sir! Dave Mills told us we 
could buy those ponies at Mackinaw for ten dollars, 
and Dave had been up on Reed's boats, and Dave 
knew. That gentleman with the portlj' frame, side 
whiskers, hands in white gloves, carrying a cane, 
and just turning up Sixth street, is Dr. William 
Johns. The pleasant-faced gentleman with him is 
the Frenchman who is building the steam mill in 
the Raven woods — Mr. P. C. Bhincan. There was 
a garden then where Mrs. Gen. Reed's house is now, 
and a great mound in it near the street. The house 
farther on was then occupied, I think, by Don 
Carlos Barrett, Esq. Edward Emery afterwards 
lived there and made the nicest candy in town. 
Just ahead of us are three young gentlemen, Gideon 
J. Ball, James lloskinson and John Moore. The 
new steamer Jefferson is in and they are going 
down to see Mr. Moore safe on board. That fine- 
looking young man who meets them at the corner, 
who always wears the glossiest silk hat, and the 
ruffled shirt, with the small square pin on his breast, 
is the stage agent, Ira W. Hart. 

The first Presbyterian church was quite different 
from the present building. It was of brick, painted 



ie2 - OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

red; the top of the dome, like an in vefte'd tea-cup 
minus the rim, was covered with unpainted tin, 
which glistened in the sun, and was always a prom- 
inent object in approaching town either by land or 
water. Above the dome was a gilt angel six feet 
in length, with trumpet to mouth, which with the 
"boot-jack" on the old court house answered as 
weather cocks. Above that boot-jack, by the way, 
was a ball of wood, pierced by the lightning rod, 
and one morning a little sign was found nailed to 
that ball. I think the sign bore the inscription 
"Wm. Kelley, Justice of the Peace." Later, I 
remember, one St. Patrick's morning, a stuffed 
effigy with a string of potatoes about the neck, a 
stick in one hand and a bottle in the other, was dis- 
covered upon the topmost pinnacle of the old court 
house. It was spring election day and the polls 
were at the court-house. All the long day, despite 
the efforts at removal, did the effigy swing in the 
March wind, until Mr. A. C. Hilton, with his rifle, 
cut the cord which held it, and down it came and 
was burned in the middle of State street in front 
of Poor People's Row. 

The interior of that old Presbyterian church was 
odd enough. As you entered, you faced the seated 
congregation, and the pulpit of course was just at 
your hand upon going in. There was a gradual 
but very perceptible rise in that floor as you walked 
back to the rear end of that church. I remember a 
marble finding its way through a hole in my pocket, 



A BOY'S WALK AROUND THE DIAMOND. 163 

one Sunday, as I was walking up the aisle, and it 
made very good time down to the hall door. I 
didn't stop to chase it just then, and never found 
it. I always thought Remus Baldwin, the sexton, 
found it and gave it to one of his boys. It was 
a white alley with a red streak. They were just 
coming out then and were valuable. 

There was a wonderful amount of stove pipe 
straggling through the interior and centering in a 
huge drum, and then passing off in some, to me, 
unknown region.' Mr. Geo. Selden, an elder in the 
church, led the choir. The choir was large, and a 
man named Virgil made a doleful noise on a bass- 
viol. Many people came from the country around 
to this church — the Evanses, Arbuckles, Mc Clel- 
lans, Davidsons, I^orcrosses, Grubbs, Loves, &c., 
&c. From town came the families of Hays, San- 
ford, Hulbert, Sill, Sterrett, Perkins, Brown, Spen- 
cer, Himrod, Moorhead, Wallace, Hilton, Fluke, 
and others. An old colored man named Brown sat 
in the gallery, coughed much during service, and 
wore a black handkerchief on his head. The lot 
opposite the church was bare save a little house in 
which were stored a cannon and some arms belono-- 
ing to the '' Erie Artillerj^" 

We had more military spirit in Erie then than 
at present. The first Monday in May was ''com- 
pany training," and a week thereafter "general 
training." That was one of the great days of the 
year for us boys. The Guards, the Greens, the 



16j^ old times in ERIE. 

Artillery and the Horse Company were all uni- 
formed, and then the apparently endless compa- 
nies of militia, when formed, reached across the Dia- 
mond from Sanford's to Elliot's. Great tables of 
gingerbread, with kegs of root beer, met you at 
ever}^ turn, and everybody' was having a good 
time. We boys generally gathered around the 
horses decorated with elegant trappings, and held 
by some colored bo3's, and waited with such pa- 
tience as we had until the General and his stali' ap- 
peared ; and then, when in obedience to the com- 
mands of tliese men in gorgeous apparel, the fife 
and drum corps, led by Major Eufus Clough and 
Capt. Fitch, in red coats, struck up Washington's 
March, and the great column commenced to move, 
as only that column could move — boggling their 
way through the streets — we, strutting along near 
the music, as near as we could get and not be 
trampled upon, with the shivers running up our 
backs and raising the very thatch upon our heads, 
wouldn't have given a cent to have exchanged 
places with the Governor of the Commonwealth. 
A From Peach Street to State I can remember but 
two or three wooden buildings — Beatty's tin shop 
and Lytle & Hamilton's tailor shop. Upon State 
was a brick dwelling house, and sitting upon the 
seat at the door, with his lame foot crossed upon 
the other leg, crutch in hand and white cravat 
about his neck, was Mr. Jno. Warren, the owner 
of the house. Opposite, and where the Ellsworth 



A BOY'S WALK AROUND THE DIAMOND. 165 

House now stimds, was Joshua Beers's great build- 
ing, afterwards the Eagle tavern. Those two gen- 
tlemen we meet here are Mr. Robert Cochran, the 
Postmaster, and Fred. I^ichols, his clerk — the last 
named, dashy, dressy and always followed by a 
big, black, woolly dog named "Pomp." We turn 
down the stone steps for a moment and drink at 
the far-famed spring of Beers's Corner. In coming 
up we meet those gentlemen, alwa3'S noticeable 
and elegant upon the street, Lieut. Ottinger, of the 
Cutter, and Capt. Douglas, of the brig Virginia. 

The Mansion House, with its fine, old-fashioned 
front and heavily ornamented balustrades — the 
chief house of the town — was kept by Mrs. Champ- 
lin. On Cheapside we had R. 0. Hulbert, Chase, 
Sill & Co., Gillaspie & Jackson, Aaron Kellogg, S. 
Brown, Tracy & Harrison, and Tuttle & Hunter. 
O. SpafFord sold books on French street then as 
now. The Observer and Gazette were both pub- 
lished on French street, below Fifth. In front of 
Sanford's there was a fine row of Lombardy pop- 
lars. Here are ten or twelve 3'oke of oxen moving 
a building up French street. Royal Freeman has 
charge of this business in town. I remember well 
his workmen. They were, to my boyish fancy, 
hideous looking men. Always where they were 
at work the air was laden with loud cries and ter- 
rible profanity. They were the Ku-Klux and buc- 
caneers of my youthful fancy. 

At Sanford's corner there was a firm known as 



166 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

the Hadleys, in the dry goods trade. George 
Moore, a prominent citizen, lived at the corner of 
French Street and the Diamond. Archibald Mc- 
Sparren lived near him, and "Uncle Seth Reed" 
occupied the old homestead, corner of State street 
and the Diamond. There he stands upon the cor- 
ner with the unlighted cigar in his mouth, as usual. 
Moving along, at a quick, dashing gait, are some 
of our prominent young men, Andrew Scott, Wil- 
liam Truesdail, Fitz James Christie and Wm. W. 
Wells. They meet Thomas Henry, Thomas M. 
Austin, Wm. Dobbins, Jonas Harrison, 0. D. Spaf- 
ford and John W. Hunter. What is up, that all 
these "blades'* are together to-day? They walk 
across the Diamond in gleeful, gay conversation, 
toward the Mansion House. Can you find as jolly 
a party in Erie to-day ? We are back to the old 
Stone Tavern, and our walk around the Diamond 
is ended. 



li 



A Boy's walk down Sixth Street. 

Once upon a time, Paul and I had been gather- 
ering chestnuts just over the valley, since occupied 
by the canal, and I purpose to-day to speak of our 
walk down Sixth street at that time. Crossing 



A BOY'S WALK DO WN SIXTH STREET. 167 

the aforesaid valley, we noticed a gentleman with 
a gun, peering cautiously among the thistles and 
poke-weeds of that region. AVe stopped until he 
tired, and then coming up found the Rev. Bennett 
Glover. He had killed a larsre hlack snake — the 
first we had ever seen. An old wooden house 
stood upon the east side of the ravine and upon 
the north side of the street. Who lived there then 
I do not know, hut afterward it was occupied by a 
colored man named Lawson. 

Some wags of the town long afterward provoked 
a quarrel between Lawson and another colored 
man known as ^'Kettle Smith." The latter always 
appeared in the street with a wig of white man's 
hair. A cloak generally covered his ample form. 
The boys told Lawson that Smith had said that he 
(Lawson) was not a finished white- washer ; that he 
did passably well as an artist upon a board fence 
or smoke house, but was good for nothing else. 

They also plied Smith diligently with Lawson's 
alleged statements of Smith's entire incompetency 
to give a genuine plaster of paris finish to his 
work, and that he was simply a bungler. They 
thus succeeded in inflaming the two worthies be- 
yond measure toward each other. Ramsay, who 
was engaged at Hart's livery stable, and black Joe 
Harris, who drove a pair of ponies that hauled the 
little old yellow hack of George Reed's temper- 
ance house, were foremost in fomenting the 
trouble. So, one day, the men met near the com- 



168 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

missioner's office, each armed with the implements 
of his trade — lime buckets and long sticks or brush 
handles. When each spied the other, buckets and 
brushes were cast to the ground and they "went 
for each other." "Kettle" was so pleased with the 
chance for a fight that he lay down quickly upon 
the ground and rolled over like a big black bear, 
then jumping to his feet and cracking his heels to- 
gether, he cast aside his cloak and, shouting, 
rushed to the fray. Lawson was equally diligent 
in the approach. They closed and fought like 
stags. Smith lost his wig in the fight, and both 
w^ere badly beaten. Lawson exhibited for daj^s 
great purple-black welts under either eye — and 
Smith's head was carefully done up in white cloths, 
one jaw largely exceeding the other in size. 

At the time of our walk we cannot remember 
any other house until we reached the one of brick 
owned by Thomas King. Mr. King and Alvay 
Flynt walked just ahead of us with their rods and 
bait buckets, on their way to strike the bass. 
None knew better than they (save perhaps old Ben 
Fleming) the haunts and habits of this gamiest of 
our lake fish. So long as they lived they contin- 
ued to indulge in their favorite sport, and Mr. 
King went to his death in one of his fishing ex- 
cursions. He was the father of those well known 
gentlemen, Josiah King, of the Pittsburgh Gazette, 
and Wilson and Alfred King of our own city. 
Benjamin Tomlinson built the brick house adjoin- 



A BOrS WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 169 

ing Thomas King's and now occupied by John 
Cremens. The Rev. Bennett Glover occupied the 
brick house, corner of Sassafras and Sixth streets, 
west side. Opposite to this was the frame house 
of George Landen, the chairraaker, whose en- 
during work may still be seen in many of the 
houses of the old people throughout the county. 
He was the father of Daniel G. and A.mos Landen, 
who are still with us, and of Reuben Landen, a 
bright and eccentric young man, who is dead. 

Upon the ground occupied by the Jackson 
house, Giles Sanford, Esq., had a nursery of fruit 
trees, and when I went to School to David Lloyd 
and Chester R. Mott in the old yellow meeting- 
house adjacent, I remember to have seen box- 
traps in the nursery, placed to snare rabbits. Mr. 
Sanford was one of the earliest to introduce good 
fruit into our county, and patiently bore the jeers 
of certain bucolic gentlemen who scouted much 
at book farming and "new fangled ideas." He 
lived to see the triumph of good fruit-raising by 
the Russells, Osbornes, Leets, etc., of Erie county. 
Between the nursery and the Episcopal church it 
was "commons," full of chestnut stumps and open 
to the cows of the town. 

David Lloyd taught very many of our Erie boys. 
I can remember and repeat verbatim his prayer of 
every morning before the labors of teaching. 
While at his school in the old yellow meeting- 
house, the last forest tree was cut down in that re- 



170 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

gion. It was near the corner of Seventh and Sas- 
safras streets. Eopes were attached to guide it 
straightly in its fall and clear the adjacent houses, 
and Solomon Walters and Lovett Snell were over- 
seeing the job. Chester R. Mott read law after hia 
days of teaching, and I think was admitted to the 
Erie bar. He had a brother, Dr. L. Mott, who mar- 
ried Miss Jane Fross, of Seventh street. The old 
Episcopal church upon Sixth street was small in size 
then, but was afterward enlarged and did very 
well for many years, until the Rev. Mr. Spaulding* 
pushed it over one day and erected the present el- 
egant edifice upon its ruins. Upon a Christmas 
Eve, within the walls of the old church, I heard 
the first deep tones of a pipe organ. The church 
was elegantly trimmed with the rich dark green 
hemlocks procured from the swampy ground on 
Parade St. along the line of the old French road. 
I remember the great circle in the centre pendent 
from the ceiling, heavily massed with evergreens, 
and thickly set with spermaceti candles, and I re- 
member to have heard Madden, the sexton, say, 
that John A. Tracy, Esq., gave the candles used 
upon that occasion. 

How clearly I can recall all that I saw that night. 
A deep snow covered the earth — the sleighs drove 
up amid much gladsome j^iugling of the bells upon 
the horses and deposited their ample loads at the 

* Now bishop of Colorado. 



A BOrS WALK DOWN SIXTH STIiEET. 171 

church door. The pews were filled very soon with 
rosy young faces, and bright eyes and happy smiles 
met you at every turn. The gothic-formed fence 
about the old church was built from the proceeds 
of an excursion given upon the lake to Dover in 
Canada. General Reed and others, owners of the 
ill-fated steamer Erie, tendered her use upon that 
occasion. Those who were present will remember 
the beautiful steamer of elegant model and her 
pipes of pure white, as they went on board that 
August Saturday in 1841. The Presque Isle band 
were playing on the deck. They were all our young 
townsmen, and all, save Alexander Lamberton and 
William Wadsworth, doomed in a few hours to 
find their graves in the lake. And Jolls, and Lloyd 
Gilson, and Parmalee, and the Yosburg boys, and 
so many others from among us went down to 
death upon that fiital Monday night succeeding the 
day of our happy excursion. How well I remem- 
ber Sam. Metcalf, his long hair streaming in the 
wind, (his hat had blown overboard) forming the 
dancers upon deck. 

Opposite the church, and where the Court House 
now stands, was the county jail, kept then by 
George L. Wood. Don't you remember his short, 
burly form and stuttering voice ? The brick house 
remodeled by John Hearn, adjoining the jail, was 
built by P. C-. Blancan, as Andrew Scott told 
us in a carrier's address the following New Year's 
day, something in this way : 



172 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

"And Peter C. Blancan without aid of stream, 
Grinds grain and saws lumber by virtue of steam, 
And yet not discouraged, tho' panics assail, 
Erects a fine building just west of the jail." 

James Iloskinson lived then as now adjoining 
the churclr, hut in the old house, and had the same 
erect form and dignified carriage as to-day The 
Hon. John Galbraith's kindly face could be seen 
in the office building next east, or the dwelling 
adjoining. Prior to that, the house was occupied 
by Mr. Sage and Mr. Norcross. About Eliott's cor- 
ner there were sports indulged in by the boys of 
that neighborhood other than the marble-playing 
spoken of in a former communication. We have 
often seen boys getting over fences in that region 
with game chickens under their arms, and the 
view was occasionally varied by seeing some hap- 
less cur making good time down the Diamond with 
a tin bucket tied to his tail. Whenever you dis- 
covered John Douglas, the Eliot boys, Ben Wil- 
kins and Dave Benson going lively for some alley 
or barn, with Dent Johns taking long strides in 
the rear, followed by his dog Drake, you might 
count on trouble in that quarter. Wm. Eliot died 
young, and I shall never forget standing by that 
open grave — the rain idling in torrents — as they 
laid him aw^ay from sight forever. 

Tliere comes Anson Jewett, the butcher ! (Didn't 
"Drake" get some sausages one day from Jewett's 
stall?) Jewett went west, became an Associate 



A BOY'S WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 173 

Judge, and afterwards, returning to Erie, Thomas 
D — asked hina, "Jewett, bow did j^ou get to be 
a Judge? — you know you don't know anything. '• 
"Yes I do," said Jewett, "I know enough to keep 
my mouth shut, and look wise." Between the 
jail and the Diamond was the frame house occupied 
by Dr. William Johns and afterward by Captain 
Thomas Wilkins. It has but recently been taken 
away. 

Before we cross the Diamond let us enter once 
more the old church of Dr. Lyon, which we at- 
tempted to picture in a former communication in 
the Observer. We spent some long Sundays there 
in our youthful days. Commencing when the " first 
bell" rang in the morning to "get ready," by 11 
o'clock the last lick had been given to the hair and 
shoes, and we joined the throng for the old church. 
The Episcopalians seemed to our youthful eyes to 
march rather stiffly across the Diamond from Beat- 
ty's tin shop to Eliot's corner, and the few Baptists 
seemed timidly to hug the curb-stone to avoid col- 
lision with our more solid ranks. The people from 
the country round about w^ere on hand betimes, 
and standing about the door comparing notes as to 
the weather, the crops, and the cases of sickness in 
their neighborhoods. Standing among them I can 
see old David Wallace with his brown coat thickly 
be-sprinkled with the hairs of the grey horse he 
has ridden in to church. Marching straight into 
our pew we were seated between the elders and 



njf. OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

began to use our eyes. It was very still and solemn 
within. The people soon began to enter — the fam- 
ilies of Andrew and John Norcross, Samuel Love, 
Giles and Hamlin Kussell, x\rbuekle, Evans, the 
Davidsons, Robert Sterrett, etc. Then came Steph- 
en Grubb and family. All tliese and many more 
came from the countr3^ Some of you will remem- 
ber who it was that ahvays wore the " squeaky " 
boots. Then came the families of Samuel Hays, 
H. Bates, Sherwood, Dr. Perkins, Hilton, Dr. Wal- 
lace, the Bonnells, A. E. Foster, Dr. Hill, Mc- 
Culloughs, Shepards, Wights, Clinton George, Dr. 
Vosburg, Laws, Lytles, Flukes, Williams, Seldens, 
Kelloggs, Hulberts, Sanfords, Sills, Himrods, Ster- 
retts, George Reed, the Misses Field and Cook, 
Riddles, etc., etc. James M. Sterrett generally 
hung his hat upon the post in his double pew be- 
fore taking his seat. 

Then came the pastor. Dr. Lyon, perhaps ac- 
companied by the burly form of the Rev. Nathan- 
iel West. Then all w^ould be still for a moment — 
then old John Brown w^ould cough that dreadful 
cough in the gallery. We look about and see that 
all the congregation are in their places. If there 
was an occasional stranger rather more stylish than 
our people he was a l!Tew York merchant remain- 
ing over Sunday in the town. Occasionally we 
would see some ladies that were visitors at our 
pastor's, from Carlisle, and the present Judge Mar- 
vin and others of his father's excellent family were 



' A BOTS WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET, 175 

often visitors at Mr. Selden's, and came of course 
to church. At length, the hxst listener being in 
his place, the pastor sajs, "Let us look to God 
for his blessing.'' Then came the singing as 
we have before described, and the sermon fol- 
lowed apace. As the sermon progressed we often 
settled away in our seat and our eyes would rest 
upon certain hap-hazard pencil marks upon the 
pew in front, resolving them into a row of Indian 
wigwams with smoke ascending from the roof of 
one, until form and outline were lost and all be- 
came a glimmer and haze, and our eyelids closed. 
Then there was a blank to us of greater or less 
duration until a gentle touch upon the foot aroused 
us in time to hear the pastor say, *' Finally, my 
brethren, we may learn from this subject," etc. 

In cold weather, after receiving the benediction 
and in passing out of the church, Mr. Selden, who 
was Superintendent of the Sunday school, would 
call out repeatedly to those in the gallery to close 
the doors, and keep the cold air from rushing in 
from the lower hall. The hungry little fellows 
would then pile up stairs to Sunday school. About 
this time I was in the class of Mr. J. C. Spencer, 
and I remember when he went away on his bridal 
tour we had a new teacher assigned us that we 
did not like so well. I went to the old church when 
the contractor, Mr. Hampson, was tearing it away. 
I walked into the old pew and took a last look at 
my Indian wigwams before they were consigned 



176 ' OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

to the rubbish heap. But the old church is gone. 
The pastor sleeps with very many of his people 
and we will speak of it no more. 

We cross the Diamond. Just ahead of us walks 
a little short man in a round-about, w^ith a promi- 
nent nose. He carries a pot of 'paint in one hand 
and some brushes displaj^ed in the other, like the 
arrows in the claw of the legendar}'- American bird. 
We all know ^' Tommy Wilkie." A carriage 
passes, and inside we see Anthony W. Wasson, 
Sherburn Smyth and William Boatty. There is a 
ball at North East to-night. Standing near San- 
ford^s corner are two groups of men. The one 
consists of Giles Russell, William Ilimrod, James 
M. Moorhead and William Gray. The known 
principles of the men and the quiet earnestness of 
their conversation indicate the nearness of some 
fugitive slave. They are the agents of the under- 
ground railroad in Erie county. In the other 
group we notice E. D. Gunnison, R. O. Hulbert, 
Myron Hutchinson and Mark Baldwin. If the 
records of this county hearing the signatures of 
these men were destroyed, there would be chaos 
indeed. Honest workers in their day and genera- 
tion, they have now all passed away. The large 
frame house, broadside to the street, and in front 
of which is the fine row^ of Lombardy poplars, is 
occupied by Mrs. Hereford and daughters. Then 
follow in order the houses owned and occupied by 
E. D. Gunnison, Wm. Kelley and Thomas Moor- 



A BOY'S WALK DOWN SIXTH STREET. 177 

head. Across the street are Dr. Coltrin's house, 
the house and shop of diaries Lay, the tinner, and 
the residence of Mrs. Pierce. We re-cross the 
street and find the lots west of the home of the 
Hon. Thomas H. Sill open as commons. Upon 
this open space the traveling shows of the time 
were wont to pitch their tents. The writer can re- 
member the great menagerie of '' Friday, Sept. 4th, 
1835," at this place, and the remark he heard so 
many times that day, ^' There are more people in 
Erie to-day than upon any other day since La- 
Fay ette was here." 

The little building next the common is the law 
of&ce of the Hon. Thomas H. Sill, who had re- 
cently represented this district in Congress. He 
was the father of James Sill, Esq., and was known 
as an earnest, able and dignified gentleman. In 
Miss Sanford's fine history of Erie county you will 
find an exact likeness of Mr. Sill as the writer re- 
members him. Halting for a moment to look with- 
in the open door of a smithy, corner of Holland and 
Sixth, two men pass us, one loquacious, wearing 
goggles and carrying a staff, the other of large 
frame, sedate appearance, swinging the right 
arm and lifting the feet in a peculiar manner. 
They are Major Rufus Clough, of Clough's Hill, 
and Robert Kincaid, who keeps the land light- 
house. Paul and I sit down upon the Mill Creek 
bridge, where we come often to fish for chubs. 
Old Sam Harris comes along headed for his little 



178 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

cabin up the bank of the creek. He is, as usual, 
under the influence of liquor, but he will not at- 
tempt to harm us, unless we insist that the great 
eclipse of the sun was not in 1806. Do that and 
you make for yourself trouble. The brick house 
on the top of the hill belongs to J. Brown Laugh- 
ead once the Burgess of the town. Looking 
south there are no buildings in the valley save 
George Moore's saw-mill, Mira Gates's cabin and a 
slaughter-house, until you reach the yellow house 
of David Mc Lane on French near Twelfth street. 
Below us nothing save Reed's grist-mill until we 
reach the old saw-mill where Mill Creek enters the 
lake. 



III. 

A Boy's walk do"wn State Street. 

Paul and I had been fishing down Ichabod Run 
for chubs, where we often caught trout as well, and 
had stopped at the Turnpike Road bridge to rest. 
The cheerful and pleasant sound of bells fell upon 
our ears, and, looking towards Federal Hill, we no- 
ticed one of those immense Conestoga wagons, bow- 
topped and covered with canvas, drawn by six 
horses, coming leisurely down the street. The 
bells were in iron arches over the hames or saddles 



A BOY'S WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 179 

of the horses, and upon the wheel horse sat Theo- 
dore Bailey, his blacksiiake whip over his shoulder, 
a single line in his hand reaching to the head of 
the leading horse, and his body swaying easily, and 
not ungracefully, with the motion of the horse he 
rode. He teamed between Erie and Pittsburgh, 
and lived in a log house on Sassafras, near Fifth 
street. In that day, many of the farmers of Mill- 
creek and Fairview, who had migrated hither from 
Northumberland, Dauphin and Lancaster, came 
here with their large blue-bodied wagons, having 
a little box on either side fastened with an iron 
hasp, an immense feed-trough across the hind end, 
and always a tar-bucket swinging beneath the 
hind axletree. Five and six horses were attached 
to those great wagons, and there was leather enough 
in the harness of one of those horses to have made 
a complete outfit for the remaining five, in the 
style of the present day. The Heidlers, Kaufmans, 
Stoughs, Wises, Wolfs, Hersheys, Longs and 
Bears, with many others, came from the lower part 
of the State and were among the best citizens of 
our county. 

At the time we mention, the land between Icha- 
bod Run and the present railroad track was an 
open field, not a house upon it. The wagons that 
came to the political conventions, Sept. 10, 1840, 
were many of them parked in that field. The prop- 
erty passed into the hands of Milton Courtright 
and was sub-divided and sold by John P. Vincent, 



180 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

Esq., Lis attorne}^ Across the way was the old 
homestead and mill of the McN'air family. Peach 
street, and all west of the junction with State, and 
down to Twelfth, was swampy, low, and covered 
with hemlocks. Near the junction was the Mc- 
l^air brewery, an old building, at this time prop- 
ped up with posts. A thicket of hemlocks, cover- 
ed with wild grape-vines, stood across the street 
from the brewery. There was not a house upon 
"the gore'', but it was covered with second growth 
hemlocks, some beeches, and a few large chestnuts. 
Some large sycamores stood in the Mill Creek val- 
ley. The spirit of speculation was abroad soon af- 
ter, and we heard the widow Munn, who lived near 
the corner of State and Twelfth, say that she would 
take twelve thousand dollars for her lot, and the 
price was not deemed exorbitant. 

Samuel W. Keefer kept tavern then at his old 
stand, now occupied by Eobert 0. Hills.* Kitty, 
a girl living at Keefer's, sold us many a horse and 
deer made of ginger-bread, as she walked up and 
down the street with her ample basket upon her 
arm. At the southeast corner of State and 
Eleventh streets, the lot was occupied by Flynt's 
mill-dam and the old red fulling-mill, and good 
honest, homespun cloth was on the tenters beside 
the dam. The old furnace, diagonally across the 
steeet from the dam, was managed by Johnson, 

* The present Liebel House. 



A BOTS WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 181 

Sennett & Co., and the old-fashioned plows, with 
wood work freshly painted red and blue, stood 
thickly in front. Those two men upon the pave- 
ment are Major James Gray and Mr. Wing, and 
the men in the wagon with whom they are con- 
versing are Dr. Thayer and Mr. Gingrich, all re- 
siding at Federal Hill. The house opposite the 
furnace is occupied by Alvay Flynt. 

A ravine crossed State street, near Tenth, as you 
may yet see by looking at the lots in the rear of 
the old Hays mansion. On the corner of Tenth 
and State was a neat log house occupied (I think) by 
the family of Jonah Cowgill, and next it was a little 
smithshop occupied by a Frenchman. At the cor- 
ner of Mnth, upon the site of the present Cottage 
House,* there was a large log house. Hemus Bald- 
win lived there at that time. ISTear this corner 
stood John Teel and Simeon Dunn, and they 
were speaking of the cost of filling in and making 
Peach street passable from Twelfth to Turkey 
Ridge. Between Ninth and Eighth, east side, were 
two small wooden buildings — one still standing. 
One was occupied by Mrs. Graves, tailoress, and 
here we boys had our heavy clothes cut, and car- 
ried them home to be made by our mothers. Be- 
low was a brick house occupied by David Burton. 
Corner of Eighth was a wooden building sometimes 
used as a school house, wherein Miss Burton, Mrs. 

* Where the Humboldt Bank and Cohen's building now 
stand. 



182 OLD TIMES IN ERIE, 

Hays, and Murray Whalon, Esq., taught the chil- 
dren of the town. Opposite was Laird's Tavern, 
kept by Thomas Laird, once Sheriff of the county, 
and a prominent citizen. I think a man named 
Mc Claskey succeeded Mr. Laird as landlord. 

Some ladies are turning up Eighth street 
with small tin buckets in their hands. They 
are going to the Mineral Spring just opened 
near the canal by Mr. Glazier. This was a place 
much frequented for a time. The remainder 
of the block above Laird's Tavern was an orchard, 
much resorted to on Saturday afternoons by the 
boys of the town. Between Laird's and Seventh 
street were the cabinet shops of A. & H. P. Mehaf- 
fe}^, McNutt & Mains, and the brick house occupied 
as a residence by Dr. Chauncey F. Perkins. In the 
block across the street were the blacksmith shop of 
Jas. Liddell, the paint shop of Sherwood & Glazier 
and the residence of A. Sherwood. James Hughes 
occupied the solitary brick, corner of Seventh, with 
dry-goods. In the rear of it, and fronting on 
Seventh street, was an old tumble-down building of 
brick. Opposite this was the barn of the old Stone 
Tavern. In front of the barn stands Ed. Cowgill, 
Hiram Van Tassell, "Whack" Snaverly and Fred 
Weirs, "talking horse." The little fellow just 
passing us, in swallow tail coat and silk hat set 
jauntily on the side of his head, walking quickly 
and with a certain air of promptness, is Billy Rob- 
inson, Captain of the Erie Guards. Between Seventh 



A BOY'S WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 183 

street and the Stone Tavern are the dry-goods stores 
of P. & W. M. Arbuckle and William A. Brown. 
In front of the tavern stands a man with one hand 
on a staff and the palm of the other hand raised and 
turned towards the person addressed, the head a lit- 
tle aside — an earnest, elderly looking face — they 
call him Dash Martin. He is talking to Joseph 
Deemer and Jonathan Baird. Across the street, in 
front of Seth Reed's house, are Alexander W. Brews- 
ter, Thomas Mehaffey and William Fleming, men 
very prominent in the business of Erie, long con- 
nected with each other in a business way, and each 
of whom had filled the executive office of the 
county. We cross the Diamond. The court house 
bell is ringing for Quarter Sessions. Can any one 
who has ever heard that bell forget its clear, sil- 
very tones ? Made in London and carrying that 
mark upon it — it was brought to this country and 
placed upon one of the British vessels (I think the 
Queen Charlotte) — was captured by Commodore 
Perry, and, I have heard it said, was carried by 
George Logan upon his brawny shoulders from the 
Navy Yard to the Court House to be used upon 
our chief county building. Shame upon the vandals 
who destroyed it ! I always think they were the 
same who burned the old Block House on Garrison 
Hill. Judge Eldred, old Judge Vincent and Judge 
Grubb, with the members of the bar and others, 
were entering the Court House. I will not at- 
tempt to speak of them now. It is about time for 



18 Jf. OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

the formation of our Historical Society. When 
that is done, some member of the bar will give us 
an exhaustive paper upon the Bench and Bar of 
the County. 

The old brick building adjoining the Court House 
had brick floors down stairs. To the right, as you 
entered, the sign upon the door was Prothonotary's 
Office, and to the left Commissioners' Office, neatly 
done in script. William Kelley was Prothonotary 
and Edward Emery was his deputy. James Skin- 
ner was Commissioner's clerk. There was a vault 
in connection with each office. Let us suppose, for 
this portion of our walk, the time to be 1840. We 
pass up stairs and find in one office Thomas 
Moorhead, Register and Recorder. E'ext door 
is Gideon J. Ball, Justice of the Peace. Oppo- 
site Ball's office is a room occupied by several 
persons. One of them stands in a long linen 
coat with broad lappels, his thumb in waist- 
coat, a Leghorn hat bent down in front and cov- 
ering one eye. This is Andrew Scott, the Sheriff 
The young man in fair hair and full suit of gray 
clothes is Samuel A. Law, Esq., — the third, with 
burly form, is Wm. M. Watts, elected the previous 
fall with Samuel Hutchins, of Waterford, to the 
legislature. The fourth room is occupied by Moses 
Billings, the artist. We look in the open door and 
see him at work upon a banner representing a 
half dozen bloodhounds in a row, upon their 
haunches, with red mouths and glaring eyes, and 



A BOY'S WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 185 

underneath the inscription, '^ Van Buren's Florida 
Warriors." The gentlemen we meet in coming 
out are Alfred and Edgar Huidekoper. They are 
always here at Quarter Sessions attending to sales 
of land of the old Holland Land Company. 

The queer-looking man with saffron-colored face, 
cane in one hand and strips of bark and herbs in 
the other, who emphasizes his quick, jerky, mum- 
bled words with a wav^^ movement of the hand con- 
taining his herbs, and a swaying to and fro of his 
body, and who is accompanied by his gaunt, un- 
gainly-looking son, is Dr. Gotham, one of the her- 
mits of the Raven Woods. His neighbors are John 
Kelley, John Cue and Mary Figs. There is a gen- 
tleman ahead of us we remember to have often 
seen in the street, always walking at a slow, meas- 
ured pace, dressed in blue cloth, and wearing, 
whenever the season would warrant, an overcoat of 
the same color. His left hand is behind his back, 
and in it he carries always a red figured bandana 
handkerchief. In his right hand he carries a cane, 
the leather thong passing through it looped over 
the back of his hand and the cane carelessly swing- 
ing to and fro. He wears spectacles of colored glass. 
His name is Brooks. We stand a moment at John 
Warren's corner. Coming from the west, is a little 
old man with basket on arm, carrying a cane which 
he seems to use as a feeler in front of him. His eye- 
brows are arched, and heavy, and he moves in a gin- 
gerly sort of way. This is Joseph Cratz,Esq., and 



186 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

he is going straight to Smith Jackson's store, and 
will take a seat in front of the stove upon a low 
hickory chair, with a seat made of splits of the same 
wood, and read the papers of the day. Owning 
some of the best property here at one time, he was 
unfortunate, lost all, and died in poverty and ob- 
scurity. He, too, lived in that early home and ref- 
uge for the friendless, the Raven Woods. 

There was a large yellow barn below Beers's cor- 
ner, afterwards connected with the Eagle Tavern. 
Judge Sterrett lived then as now in his brick house 
upon State street. Just south of it, in 1840, stood 
the Log Cabin, and here the Whigs met once a week 
during that great campaign, some one with strong 
lungs blowing the long tin horn to assemble the 
faithful. John H. Walker, Elijah Babbitt and 
Charles W. Kelso were the standing speakers. A 
birch bark canoe was on the top of the cabin, and a 
flag pole passed up through the centre of the build- 
ing bearing a banner inscribed "Harrison and Ty- 
ler. A protective tariff and no reduction of w^ages." 
Hard cider was generally on draught in the corner 
of the room — John Lytle furnishing refreshments 
for the brethren. Caricatures of Yan Buren, Ken- 
dall, Woodbury, Price and Blair were on the w^alls. 
John D. Haverstick was President of the Tippe- 
canoe Club, and sat in a queer chair, made of 
natural crooks from the woods. 

James Williams's dwelling house was on the cor- 
ner of Fourth street. There was a fine garden attach- 



A BOrS WALK DOWN STATE STREET. 187 

ed to this pleasant home. Approaching us from the 
direction of the lake is another little old man 
ringing a hand bell with great method and regular- 
ity. He has rather a solemn-looking face and up- 
on nearing the corner he takes the bell by the 
clapper and announces in a loud, but rather indis- 
tinct voice, that there will be an auction sale this 
evening, at early candlelight, at the auction room 
of Henry Clark, upon French street, and after giv- 
ing an inventory of the wares to be sold he invites 
all to come, '' including old women and abolition- 
ists." This man was Dr. Randall. His cry is imita- 
ted by the idle boys of the neigborhood who gather 
about him, but turning quickly, he shuffles with his 
feet, the boys scatter and the Dr. starts again his 
weary round. The old brick building, used by Mr. 
Pelton as a marble shop, was then occupied as a 
dwelling by John Riddle, Esq. Capt. Daniel Dob- 
bins lived in the house corner of Third street, and 
might be seen upon the street any day when the 
Revenue Cutter, which he commanded, was in 
port. His aged widow and his son, Capt. Wm. 
Dobbins, still reside in the old homestead. Dr. Ja- 
cob Vosburg lived in the frame dwelling on the op- 
posite corner. Gen. Reed occupied the three story 
brick dwelling next below for many years. Edwin 
J. Kelso lived in the brick house upon the corner 
below, and in a frame house upon the bank of the 
lake lived the widow of John Kelso, Esq. Across 
the street and also upon the bank of the lake lived 



188 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

P. S. Y. Hamot, Esq. The fine grassy ground in 
front of Mr. Hamot's house* was much more ex- 
tensive than now, and was the fashionable prom- 
enade of the town. 



IV. 

Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay. 

Our walk to-day is suggestive of the earliest 
white occupants of our soil. The name of the 
street we shall talk about, and the name of the bay, 
is all that is left us as a reminder of that band of 
co-workers who simultaneously raised upon our 
shore the cross and the lilies of France. We might 
have perpetuated their names in our parks, our 
streams and our streets, but there was such an ab- 
sence of a sense of 'Hhe fitness of things'' with 
the earlier settlers, that our creeks must be known 
as *^Four Mile,'' '' Six Mile," &c.; and again in our 
streets the numerals must intervene, First, Second, 
&c. Indeed the Yankee in this region should be 
painted with slate in hand, and arithmetic under 
arm. The same poverty of names still exists. The 
city, countj^ and lake must have the same name, 
and the prefix " Erie " must come with bank, cem- 
etery, iron foundry, forge, and so on, ^^ad nauseam.'" 

* This place is now the Hamot Hospital. 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQUE ISLE BAY. 189 

When I was a boy, the enjoyable walk was al- 
ways on the bank of the lake. There was then no 
railroad to visit — the park was destitute of tree or 
fountain. Afterward the mineral spring at Eighth 
street, and the packet-boat landing at the same 
place, and the opening, years later, of the ceme- 
tery, drew a portion of our people in another direc- 
tion for their afternoon and evening walks, but the 
masses went at all times to the bank of the lake. 
Here, to one standing on the shore of Presque Isle 
Bay at the foot of French street, on a beautiful after- 
noon of many years ago, the slight breeze from the 
west, which fills the sails of the small craft upon the 
bay, brings to the ear the sound of falling waters 
from the miniature cascade of Lee's Run, as it emp- 
ties into the lake. A solitary canoe with a single 
occupant is headed for the beacon light. The out- 
line of the figure in the stern and the peculiar stroke 
of the paddle betoken the presence of Old Ben. 
A goodly number of black bas's may as well say 
good-bye as they come into Presque Isle Bay to- 
day. It is very quiet about the dock. A few loads 
of steamboat wood . are passing over the public 
bridge, and a farmer is loading a barrel of salt in 
his wagon at one of the shore warehouses. Thomas 
Horton and his men are calking a fish-boat and 
mending a seine at the foot of French street. The 
shore of the bay toward the mouth of Mill Creek 
has a fringe of bushes and trees. 

Off to the east the smoke of the old steamer, 



190 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

North America, which has just left the harbor, is 
seen. The Block House looms up grandly on Gar- 
rison Hill, and the reflectors of the shore li^rht- 
house glisten in the sun. Down there near the 
mouth of Mill Creek the French had their fort and 
settlement away back in 1749, with its bastions, 
chapel, guard-house, surgeon's lodgings, command- 
ant's houses, &c., and the soldiers, stationed here 
for many years, welcomed their comrades as they 
drew their bateaux upon the beach at the mouth of 
Mill Creek, after their weary journey from Quebec 
and Montreal, and bade them rest for awhile before 
taking up their march out (what is now Parade 
street) upon the old French road to River an Boeuf 
(Waterford), called by the Indians Casewago, or 
still further to Yenango or Du Quesne. 

De la Roche and Braboeuf, clad in the vestments 
of their holy orders, often raised the voice of suppli- 
cation on this spot, and amid the throng of worship- 
ers down at old Fort Presque Isle stood such men 
as Morang, Derpontency, DeLigenrie and Legar- 
deur de St. Pierre, Knights of the order of St. 
Louis, surrounded by the soldiers of France and the 
curious faces of their savage allies, the natives of 
the soil. In a few years these banks had British 
occupants, and " the meteor flag of England" sup- 
planted the banner of France, and in place of the 
Jesuit fathers, their Indian allies and the French 
troops, here in August, 1764, runners were passing 
over the old French road from Col. Bradsteet, en- 



OLD FBENCE STREET AND PBESQUE ISLE BAY. 191 

camped at Presque Isle, and sent to Gen. Gage to 
co-operate with that grand soldier, Col. Boquet, who 
was marching westward from Du Quesne to give 
the Indians a sounder thrashing than they had yet 
received. 

A party of Indians sent by the Shawnese and 
Delawares met Bradstreet at Presque Isle, and made 
a treacherous treaty with him while theii* tribes 
were preparing to fight Col. Boquet. Again long 
years passed away, and in 1795 another flag was 
raised here by that noble old Pennsylvanian, An- 
thony Wayne. That flag still flies at Presque Isle. 
The next year Mad Anthony Wayne ended his 
stormy life andwas buried on the banks of Presque 
Isle Bay. He had forced peace with the Indians ; 
and then came civilization to Presque Isle with 
Reed, Miles, King, Reese, Cochran, Foster, Dobbins, 
Colt, Kelso, Stewart, Wilson, Duncan, Irvin and 
others in the van, and then we had streets and 
squares laid out, and they called it Erie. An an- 
cestor of mine on arriving here in 1800 met Judah 
Colt among the trees of what is now the Park, and 
asked him how far it was to Presque Isle. " Why, 
bless you, man," said he, "you are right in the 
heart of the city." From that time until about 
thirty years ago the street of the town was French 
street. If you wanted to find Reed or Hamot, 
Colt, Foster, Duncan or Knox, you must go down 
on French street. The post office, the Bank, the 



192 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

printing office, the court house, the inns, the acad- 
emy and the stores were all on French street. 

But a very few years had passed after the settle- 
ment of the town, when, from our stand-point here 
on the bank of the lake, the sound of martial music 
was again heard, and the tramp of armed men 
resounded along Presque Isle Bay. Down there 
just across Mill Creek, on the sand beach, is en- 
camped Tannehill's Brigade. A company of our 
Erie men are with them. ]S"ext to the lake is Col. 
Purviance's regiment. Upon the east is Irvin's; 
Snider's is on the south, and Col. Piper's on the 
west. They marched away to Buffalo on the 
morning of !N"ov. 7th, 1812. ITotwithstanding the 
miserable failure of Gen. Smythe's campaign, and 
the terrible demoralization of TannehilTs Brigade, 
not an Erie man deserted his flag. Then the next 
season, from the west, we hear the sound of an 
hundred axes and the crash of fallingirees.. Perry's 
fleet is building at the Cascade and the Kavy Yard. 
You know its history. And then, after the battle, 
we had the actors all here. Some who read these 
words will remember standing where we now stand 
and seeing Commodore Perry, with the wounded 
Englishman, Commodore Barclay, leaning upon 
his breast, and Gen. Harrison and all the others, 
coming up the hill at the foot of French street and 
going to Duncan's, corner of French and Third; 
and then followed the sound of cannon, the illumin- 
ation, the procession, the transparencies, &c. 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQUE ISLE BAT. 193 

What a winter they had on French street, that 
winter of 1813-14. One wounded English officer, 
named Knight, whose wife came to him, did enjoy 
comparative quiet during the winter by going to 
Thomas Laird's Inn, "near MHe," — corner of State 
and Eighth streets. That terrible suicide of Purser 
Magrath, at Duncan's, will be remembered, and 
some ladies who read this will not forget how Miss 

D took them up stairs and showed them the 

blood upon the wall so long, long after the event. 
And the hanging at the yard arm over there in Mis- 
ery Bay, and the shooting of Bird for desertion, and 
then the duel,^at the corner of Third and Sassafras 
streets, between Senat, the young Frenchman, and 
Mc Donald, all about the buttons and the carving 
of the beef at Cummins's. Poor Senat fell at the 
second lire, and was buried just there where he 

fell, and Kitty sat down " and cried, and 

cried." 

Some gentlemen are standing to our left as we 
face the lake. One is speaking and making ges- 
tures to the others with his arms, descriptive of 
the locality. They are attentive listeners. The 
speaker is Dr. Peter Christie, of the N'avy, and the 
others are Thomas G. Colt, Capt. W. W. Dobbins, 
Capt. Homans, of the Army, and Dr. J. Benjamin 
Stout. Jimmiy and Martha Homans are playing 
nearer the bank with a large Kewfoundland dog,'the 
first I remember to have seen. Dr. Christie then 
lived in his pleasant, vine-covered residence on Sec- 



19^ OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

ond street, Dr. Stout had rooms over the Erie Bank, 
on the Diamond, and Capt. Homans lived in John 
Teel's house, corner of IsTinth and Peach streets. 
Capt. Dobbins is giving some account of French 
street in the early days. We draw near and listen, 
and give you some of the items of interest. On 
the beach, at the foot of French street, was the 
warehouse of Thomas Wilson, built of logs in 
1807. Between Second street and the lake were 
several log houses. The largest was occupied, 
before 1800, by Thomas Rees, and here Louis 
Phillip and his friends remained for some days, the 
guests of Mr. Rees, who entertained them hospita- 
bly and sent a guide with the party to Canandaigua. 
Dr. Wallace had an office in Rees's House. John 
Hay lived in one of those houses, and into another 
Robert Vosburg moved when he came to Erie in 
1818. 



Y 



Old French Street and Presque Isle Bay. 

Upon the northeast corner of French and Second 
streets there was a log house occupied by Mrs. 
Catharine O'Neil. A high bridge extended on Sec- 
ond, between French and State streets. The south- 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQUE ISLE BAT. 195 

east corner of French and Second was Dickson's 
in 1815. Dickson came to Erie in 1809, had been 
a sailor, and was generally engaged in the lake 
trade. In his house the dinner was prepared which 
was given to La Fayette and suite under the 
bower on the Second street bridge. " The Mirror," 
the first newspaper in Erie, was issued from Dick- 
son's corner by Mr. Wyeth from Dauphin county. 
In front of Dickson's house, it is said, was placed 
the first brick pavement laid in Erie. Just east of 
Dickson's was the two-story log store of Thomas 
Wilson. Wilson was a man of much prominence 
in Erie, was Burgess, Prothonotary and member of 
Cono-ress from this district. He owned four slaves 
— one (old Kitty) is alive to-day (1874) in the county 
almshouse. The family are all dead save Thomas, 
the well-known deaf mute. P. S. Y. Ilamot com- 
menced selling goods here with Mr. Wilson. A 
brother of the proprietor named John also clerked 

here. 

Opposite Dickson's west was the well-known 
Cummins Tavern. It was a large building. John 
Henry of Waterford and James Moore' worked 
upon this building. It was certainly erected as 
early as 1803 ; some say at an earlier date. Capt. 
John Cummins was an army officer and kept this 
house for more than a score of years. Mrs. David 
Kennedy was a daughter of Capt. Cummins, and 
when but five years old fell from the Second street 
bridge and was picked up for dead by her 



196 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

brother Samuel. Cummins's barn was burned 
durins: a session of Court and a number of valua- 
ble horses belonging to Judges and jurors, includ- 
ing one owned by Sheriff Carmack, perished in the 
fire. Old Charley Logan fired the building accident- 
ally from a lantern. Old Charley was the servant of 
Colonel Chambers, of revolutionary fame, and 
died in February 1827, aged 95. He was the father 
of Bristo, George and Peter Logan. Once, in 
March, 1800, there was a time of great scarcity of 
provisions in Erie. The garrison was reduced to 
three loaves of bread, when Capt. Cummins arrived 
from Meadville with pack horses laden with flour. 
Just south of Cummins's was the Knox House, 
used by Robert Knox as a dwelling, store and post- 
ofiice. It was of logs. Li front was a great tree 
bole, known as " the lying block," celebrated in 
story and song in the local papers of the present 
day. 

Soutli of Knox's, and very near the corner of 
Third and French streets, was a log house built in 
1804 and owned by Conrad Brown. It is said the 
first Court held in Erie county was organized in 
this building. A man named Culbertson kept 
tavern here after the war. He had worked as a 
hatter for John Morris. Directly east and oppo- 
site was the house known as Duncan's in 1812 and 
subsequently known as Buehler,'Ivees & Mc Con- 
key's. John McElroy and John Warren built 
this house. John Warren came here in 1800. 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND FRESQUE ISLE BAY. 197 

During the war it was the headquarters of Commo- 
dore Perry and General Harrison. Commodore 
Perry's room was on the south side, second story. 
Here Purser Magrath committed suicide. Oppo- 
site and south of Duncan's was a two-story house of 
logs occupied by Capt. Rough, a Scotchman. Capt. 
Rough sailed the schooner Mary in 1809 in the 
salt trade. John Eiddell had a law office in or 
near this building in 1823. Opposite and west 
of Rough's stands a brick house built by Peter 
Grawoss. He was a stone mason and kept a bil- 
liard saloon. Just west of this house was one of 
logs, occupied by Robert Knox as store and post- 
office prior to the erection of his house on French 
street. Midway between Third and Fourth streets 
and on the west side of French was the famous 
Old Red Store and warehouse of Reed. Giles San- 
ford, Stephen Wolverton, William W. Reed and 
Thomas Forster clerked for Mr. Reed. ''Old Judd" 
preached there occasionally. Camp started the 
Academy in the old store, and here the Presbyter- 
ians organized the first Sunday School in 1821. 
Miss Elizabeth Rees was one of the teachers. It 
seemed to have been a "broad church" affiiir, for 
one scholar (at least) was allowed to learn and re- 
peat her Roman Catholic catechism. 

Opposite the Red Store was a two story log house 
which in 1812 was known as Dickson's Tavern. 
It was built by a German named Lehman in 1808. 
Cowgill, the old Quaker, afterwards lived there, 



198 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

and died in 1822 aged 76. Capt. M. Connor had 
a sail-maker's shop here after the war. Just south 
of this house was one — long, low and built of logs 
— concerning which I have no information. The 
next south was a shoe store kept by William 
Fleming in 1850. The house next south of the 
Eed Store was a small one occupied by Robert 
Vosburg, barber, prior to 1840. The next south 
was known as the Clement House. Com. Deacon 
resided there and Dr. Christie of the navy followed. 
Josiah Kellogg lived there in 1818. The post- 
office was in this building as late as 1836. IText 
south was the office of Waugh, a lawyer with a 
crippled hand. 

Upon the northwest corner of French and Fourth 
streets was Hamot's store. Before Hamot, Mr. 
George Shontz, a chairmaker, lived and had his 
shop upon this corner. The front of Mr. Hamot's 
store building was constructed about 1819, the rear 
portion by Thomas Miller in 1825. It was an 
old-fashioned frame, with white oak sills, posts, 
beams, &c., and all manner of goods were sold 
therein — dry goods, groceries, crockery, hardware, 
&c. His clerks, at various times, were B. F. Tracy, 
Leander Woodruff, John A. Tracy, Edwin Tracy, 
Thomas Moorhead, John McCord, John McSpar- 
ren, Robert Benedict, Geo. Laird and John J. 
Swan. The old Erie Bank — the first bank here — 
was opened in the counting room of this store in 
1829, the entrance being on Fourth street. Mr. 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQ UE ISLE BA T. 199 

Reed was President, Mr. Hamot, Cashier, and 
John A. Tracy, C. M. Reed, Samuel Brown, Wm. 
Fleming, Thomas Moorhead, Jr., E. D. Gunnison 
and Daniel Gillespie, directors. The capital was 
$200,000. One of the original $5 bills, No. 163, 
dated March 24, 1829, is now in the hands of the 
Second National Bank. 

Opposite Hamot's store and south was Judah 
Colt's log house, one and a-half stories high, which 
was back in the lot near the brow of the hill. Be- 
tween Colt's and Reed's was the office of Joseph 
M. Kratz, County Treasurer in 1803, and Fithian's 
shoe store was in the same region. Reed's store 
was on the northwest corner of Fifth and French — 
the dwelling was in the north part of the house. 
I think the building was erected in 1804. Giles 
Sanford came here in 1810 and some years there- 
after formed a co-partnership with Mr. Reed. 
James Duncan kept tavern here at one time, and 
William Lattimore kept store in the corner room. 
The Erie Gazette was first issued in this building. 
The east side of the street, from Fourth street to the 
corner building on Fifth, was unoccupied and was 
enclosed \>y a common rail fence. 

Upon the corner now occupied by the Farmer's 
Hotel was a story-and-a-half house of logs built by 
Amos Fisk in 1805. In 1816 it was Duncan's 
Globe Hotel. Stephen Wolverton at one time re- 
sided and kept a store in this building. At the 
southeast corner of French and Fifth was the well 



200 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

remembered residence of Col. Thomas Forster, 
with its spacious verandas to both stories, and its 
immense locust trees in th6 yard before the house. 
Opposite, north and east of Forster's, is the still el- 
egant Dr. Wallace house, built by John Mc Elroy, 
who was killed at Niagara in the war of 1812. 
Next east was a log house where service was oc- 
casionally held by the Associate Reformed congre- 
gation. The late E. D. Gunnison taught school in 
this house. The block bounded by the Diamond, 
and French, Fifth and State streets, was owned by 
a man named Murray. The whole was surrounded 
by a picket fence with cedar posts pointed and 
neatly dressed. Upon the Diamond and French 
street side was a row of fine Lombardy poplars, a 
tree very much admired in that day, and brought 
to. Philadelphia by Judge Bingham about 1785. 
Near the southwest corner was a splendid spring 
of living water in the shade of a cluster of large 
hemlock trees. In the centre of this square was Mr. 
Murray's residence, a house of logs and one and a 
half stories high. There was a beautiful garden 
here, and the house was surrounded with the old 
fashioned snow balls, lilacs, roses, &c. Across 
Fifth, and near State street, were the cider mill 
and press of Judah Colt. 

It is said McDonald and his party met and cast 
their bullets in Murray's house before going to the 
corner of Third and Sassafras streets to fight the 
duel with Senat. A gentleman still living inform- 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQ UE ISLE BA Y. 201 

ed me that he, with a number of others (then boys) 
followed the party until they were crossing Lee's run, 
when Dr. Wallace turning threatened them with 
utter annihilation unless they went back. My in- 
formant left the other boys and ran down the bank 
to the neighborhood of Second street, and then 
came up a path on the west side of the run and hid 
in the bushes, where he had a good view of Senat. 
At the first fire Senat was hit in the arm or hand. 
After a parley the surgeon decided that the wound 
did not prevent continuing the fight. At the sec- 
ond fire Senat fell dead, and very soon after, hear- 
ing a rustling in the bushes, my informant 
looked up and saw Mc Donald, attired in a 
drab overcoat buttoned to the throat and reaching 
nearly to his heels, walking rapidly down the path 
toward the village. 

Mr. Eeed purchased the Murray property and 
erected a store, corner of French street and the Dia- 
mond, and occupied it in 1825. Just south of Col. 
Forster's house was a long, narrow building used 
as a school house. Here was enacted the tragedy 
of ^' Julius Csesar, " the full details of which ap- 
peared some time since in ''The Academy. " My 
recollection of this building first was when occupied 
by Dr. Chauncey F. Perkins as a drug store. Then 
followed R. 0. Hulbert's justice's ofiice, and above 
were Aaron Kellogg, Gillespie & Jackson, Myron 
Goodwin, J. & G. Kellogg, Fleming & Brewster, 
Thos. G. Colt, dry goods ; the Balls, and afterward 



202 ; OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

Ball & Ford, watchmakers and jewellers; Daniel 
Webster, oyster saloon ; Haskins & Bates, grocers ; 
S. Smj^tb, hatter. The young men on French street, 
in that later day, were Andrew Scott, Wm. E. Kings- 
bury, Jonas Harrison, T. G. Colt, John Mc Spar- 
ren, Geo. H. Kellogg^ A. "W. Wasson, Samuel L. 
Forster, Julius Hitchcock, Daniel Gillespie, James 
L. Keed, P. Arbuckle, Geo. Williams, Jno. W. 
Hunter. Horace Greeley worked in the Gazette 
office, on French street, at this time, but didn't 
train much with the boys. 

On the northeast corner of the Diamond and 
Sixth streets was Bell's Inn, erected in 1806. The 
timbers in this house were cut upon the Diamond, 
and John Teel was nailing the weather boards on 
the house at the time of the great eclipse of the 
sun in 1806. This was a great place for dancing 
school, shows of wax works, &c. A Mr. Fox kept 
a store in this building in 1813. The Bailey house, 
standing east of Bell's, was occupied by Purser Carr. 
There is said to be a portrait of the Purser in posses- 
sion of a lady in this city. Opposite and south of 
Bell's, known in later days as Sanford's corner, lived 
Com. Dexter. He also died there. There was a 
military funeral, and the horses becoming restless 
while the procession was moving, the remains of 
the Commodore were thrown upon the ground. 

Upon the Diamond somewhere, Jonathan Baird 
had a blacksmith shop in 1809. In this year 
John Hay was Postmaster, Jacob Spang, Sheriff, 



OLD FRENCH STREET AND PRESQ UE ISLE BA Y. 20S 

James E. Heron, Prothonotary. Anselra Potter 
was an attorney "at Mr. Fisk's opposite Duncan's," 
and James Duncan was innkeeper at tlie sign of 
the "Spread Eagle." On the northeast corner of 
French street and the Diamond George Moore's 
house was erected in 1804. On the south end of 
that lot, and east of Seventh street corner, Thomas 
Large had a blacksmith shop in 1809. Between 
Seventh and Eighth streets east side, was the 
house of Anson Jewett, a butcher, in 1836. E'ext 
was the log house of Capt. John Woodward, for 
many years, transcribing clerk in the House of Rep- 
resentatives. He died in 1823, aged ninety-four. 
The next house south, corner of Eighth and 
French, was occupied by George Wyeth, who re- 
moved the office of the "Mirror" from Dickson's , 
corner in June, 1809. The Mirror was Federal 
and " wore the black cockade." The prominent 
Democrats were Maj. Cochran, Capt. Dobbins and 
P. S. Y. Hamot. Patrick Farrelly, of Crawford, was 
a Democrat, and indulged in communications to the 
Mirror. Across Eighth street and next south was 
the burying ground connected w^ith the Associate 
Reformed Church. Above this was the log building 
one and a half stories high, used by John Mc Don- 
ald, blacksmith, in 1810. On the Corner of Ninth 
and French streets was a los: buildins^ I remember 
as occupied by a man named McKinley. Across 
the street, south corner, were the tannery buildings 
of Samuel Hays. 



204 <^^^ TIMES IN ERIE. 

YI. . 

A Boy's "walk down Peach Street. 

Federal Hill was a noted point in the early days 
of the borough of Erie. I think I have heard that 
it was named by George Moore, Esq., a man filling 
a large space in the early history of the town and 
county. 

AYhen boys, we were in the habit of going to the 
Hill to meet the caravans and shows that approach- 
ed from the south and west. Brown's avenue and 
all the other cut-offs from the Ridge Eoad were un- 
known, and everything from the west and south 
must enter the town by Federal Hill. The people 
. of the populous township of Millcreek always held 
their elections here. The bars of the rival taverns 
did a good business on that day, and in the after- 
noon, when the steam was up and the Lake Road 
boys got on the Hill, diversions in the way of free 
fights were frequent. 

Groups of men engaged in earnest political dis- 
cussion were numerous. You would alwavs see 
Capt. John Justice, Joseph Henderson, Robt. Coch- 
ran, Giles and Hamlin Russell, the Sweenys, Mr. 
Wing, John K. Caldwell, the Mc Crearys, Evanses, 
Oldses, Parkers, Caugheys, Reeds, Whitleys, Dr. 
Thayer, Rudy Shank, the Loves, Nicholsons, 
Browns, Saltsmans, Ebersoles, Riblets and Mc Clel- 
lands, Mr. Gingrich, John Butt, Wareham Taggart 



A BOrS WALK DOWN PEACH STREET. 205 

and others, earnestly discussing the questions of the 
time. If it were charged by the Whigs that vile 
political slanders filled the opposition papers, Rob- 
ert Cochran produced a copy of the " Globe " and 
defended its contents. If a Democrat spoke of 
Blue Light Federalists, the pockets of Andrew 
Caughey would quickly give forth several numbers 
of the '^J^ational Intelligencer," and in his quiet, 
earnest manner he would defend the paper repre- 
senting the party of his choice. 

The general excitement was heightened by the 
constant passage eastward of droves of cattle, sheep 
and hogs, and the shouts and cries of the drovers. 
And wagons, bow-topped and covered with canvas 
— the dog under the wagon — the great spinning 
wheel fitting: the rear end of the cover — the faces 
of tow-headed children peeping out from front and 
rear — were passing westward, bound for Michigan 
and Indiana. And occasionally a wagon like these 
was headed eastward, with sorry, jaded stock, and 
people w^ith weary, solemn-looking, tallow-colored 
faces, and some member of the family, perched 
on a bed with a quilt about him, told the story — it 
was his day for a shake. They had been West 
and were returning, satisfied to live anywhere in 
the East. 

Down this road passed the great Pennsylvania 
wagons with the belled horses, loaded with iron, 
nails and glass from Pittsburgh, and team after 
team with steamboat wood for the docks. 



206 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

Shouts from the rear are heard, and turning 
quickly around we see men getting to the sides of 
the road, and two wagons abreast and well filled, 
and drawn by rather sorry-looking stock, come rat- 
tling along in a race. Every one knows them — 

"the wild B s" of Beaverdam, and the C s 

of Millcreek. Mark the old chap driving the 
wagon this side — a short pipe in his mouth, a great 
purple-red bunch over his eye. He flourishes a 
"whup," minus the lash, at the cattle. Look at the 
span of "-mears," straddling wide from the tongue of 
the wagon, and lying down to the work. The mud- 
flies, the contestants yell, the mob cheer, and down 
the hill to the town they go like mad. 

Our politicians are out from town in force, en- 
couraging their friends with news of the progress 
of the contest in the borough. Hacks are coming 
and going, and the boys are very polite to certain 
blear-eyed, ill-favored old fellows, who are seen in 
carriages only upon election day. William J. Ster- 
rett and Augustus Walters each arrive with a wag- 
on full of voters gathered up on the Lake road. 

Elijah Babbitt and P. S. Y. Hamot stand ex- 
changing pleasant words of comment upon the ex- 
citement about them. John H. Walker is speak- 
ing earnestly to a group, and receiving that atten- 
tion always accorded to him. Andrew Scott, Wm. 
Truesdail and Wm. M. Gallagher are chaffing Mur- 
ray Whallon, who smiles and says confidently, 
** Wait till you hear from the back townships. 



A BOY'S WALK DO IVJSf PEACH STREET. 207 

boys." Standing near we note John W. Hunter, 
Thos. Laird, Adam Pollock, John Slianer, A. P. 
Durlin, Sol. Wood, 0. D. SpafFord, B. F. Sloan, 
John W. McLane, Wm. F. Rindernechtand others, 
the younger Whigs and Democrats of the borough. 
The dispute is terminated by the sounds of music 
from a band in a wagon drawn by four horses 
driven by Perry Oliver, with Horace Bronson oa 
the seat beside him. 

The return of the band to town is the signal for 
many to leave, and we will go with the music. 
There was only a house or two between the hill and 
the old homestead of the McNairs. The old brew- 
ery of Dunning Mc^N^air stood on the east side of 
the street and just between the railway tracks as 
laid to-day. It had taken a ''list" to the westward, 
and was propped up with heavy posts braced 
against it. It had the old-fashioned mill doors, 
divided horizontally into two parts, each swinging 
separatel3^ 

All of the "gore" at the angle of Peach and 
Turnpike or State streets down to Twelfth, and all 
the corresponding part west of Peach, was a wooded 
swamp of beach, hemlock and chestnut, and an 
undergrowth of grape vines. 

Jim W , of West Millcreek, started for 

home one warm summer afternoon, and when op- 
posite the old brewery discovered a man asleep 
upon the ground under the vine-covered hemlocks 
opposite. The man had a worn and neglected 



208 OLD TTMES IN ERIE. 

look, and Jim came to the conclusion that he was 
drunk. The spirit of mischief was aroused, and 
cutting a fine, supple beech gad he proceeded 
leisurely to divest it of its superfluous twigs. Jim 
had often heard that the quickest way to sober a 
drunken man was to give him a good whipping. 
Approaching the unconscious sleeper, and measur- 
ing his distance, he proceeded to shower the blows 
upon him. The man — who was as sober as his 
persecutor — awoke of course in great confusion and 
surprise, and staggering to his feet threw up his 
arms to protect himself. Jim redoubled the num- 
ber and force of his blows, at the same time say- 
ing, ^'Lie still and TU sober you. I '11 teach you 
to lie down and sleep in day-time." 

The stranger, maddened with pain and now 
thoroughly awakened, made for Jim, who stepped 
nimbly backward, still using the whip with merci- 
less severity. But there was something in the man's 
eye which quickly satisfied Jim that he was only too 
sober for his well-being, and throwing away the gad 
he bounced the rail fence and struck down by the 
brewery for the Mill Creek bottom, the man after 
him, and uttering such terrible imprecations upon 
the pursued as chilled the blood in his veins. 

Through the waters of the creek, over logs, into 
and out of thickets of second growth, they sped. 
The crackling of brush and the awful threats and 
curses borne on the air, marked their course far up 
the creek. The stranger began slowly to gain on 



A BOT'8 WALK DOWN PEACH STREET. 209 

him, and coming up with him near Gingrich's, and 
about overcome with exertion, he reached his hand 
forward, scraping his fingers down Jim's back, 
when a treacherous root caught his foot and down 
he came to the ground. 

This decided the contest, but Jim declares that 
he did not stop running until he reached John Butt's 
spring-house on the ridge road, and there he stopped 
and drank long and deep at the famous spring. 

At Twelfth street two men are talking derisively 
of the rumored purchase by parties of the Anti- 
Masonic swamp, which is immediately across the 
street, and expressing the opinion that it never will 
be used for anything but a bog pasture. One of the 
men is of very rotund figure, not tall, with a sober, 
red face and side whiskers. The other is tall and 
slender, hair sprinkled with gray, face rather dark, 
and never seen without a cigar in his mouth. The 
old citizen may recognize James S. Sennett and 
Samuel W. Keefer. 

Samuel Phoenix stands talking with David Pence 
in front of the cooper shop of the latter just 
within sight on Eleventh street, and the two old 
men listening, the one with a long, drab, double- 
caped over-coat, carrying a cane, and having a red, 
pouchy upper lip, and the other with light cordu- 
roy clothes, are old Billy Dougherty and John 
Glover, the brewer. I have no doubt if the old 
English brewer were living to-day he would be in- 
side of the same garments. The other old men ap- 



210 OLD TUIES IN ERIE, 

proaching from Fljnt's fulling mill are Mr. Marshall 
and Mr. Burnley. As we proceed to Tenth street, we 
note a man coming up street with a wheelbarrow. 
He is without a coat, has a stand-up shirt-collar, 
with a light-colored, plaid gingham handkerchief, 
passed twice around the neck and tied tightly. 
His mouth is " pursed " up closely, showing the 
wrinkles in his cheeks, and looks like a " gash in 
a frosted squash." What a queer, " wuthering," 
sputtering voice had George Mc Murray, the gar- 
dener. John Teel's house in that day showed a 
charred and burned end to the south and was par- 
tially occupied by Capt. Homans. One of the Cap- 
tain's pets was a large brown bear chained to the 
pear tree in the yard. 

School is just out at the Academy, and in the 
crowd of boys near Peach street we notice Ben. 
Wilkins, Silas Teel, Wm. Warren, Frank Tracy, 
John and William Eliot, John Douglass, Wm. A. 
Galbraith, John and George Selden, Wm. Brown, 
Alfred King and others. 

What a fountain of good in the land has been 
that old stone building on Peach street! Our early 
prominent business and professional men came out 
of that building and its sister institution in Water- 
ford, — brave boys, who reached the highest grades 
in the army and the navy, and died on the slippery 
decks and rugged mountain sides for the sake of 
that which they learned to love in the old Acade- 
my; clergymen among the first in the land ; men 



A BOTS WALK DO WN PEACH STREET. 211 

at the heads of departments in Washington ; pro- 
fessors in colleges. One of her sons* bids fair to at- 
tain this coming winter the moat commanding po- 
sition, save President, in the land. Another,t with 
a mighty stride, has gone to the very front rank of 
the vast army of men who hold the immense railway 
interests of the nation in their grasp. The thousands 
are dimly outlined far, far in the rear; only two or 
three men stand with him in the front, i^one of 
these noble men ever said anght disrespectful of 
their teachings here, nor fouled the nest in which 
they were nurtured and reared. 

Simeon Dunn then lived in the brick house at 
the corner of Ninth street, opposite the small house 
of brick built by Holmes Heed and afterward occu- 
pied by the famous captain of the borough militia, 
Charles Wanzo. Geo. W. Gallagher lived in the 
next house northward, and under that roof poor 
Tom wasted away and died. The old Brown house, 
built of stone and marled with lime, looked then, 
as now, solid and substantial. Its massive walls 
will stand long after we have passed away. 

How the men stood about in groups at election 
times in that day, and how hot w^ere the discus- 
sions. The rosy-cheeked man with gray hair, in 
the tight-sleeved coat of the times, with cuffs 

*non. Michael C. Kerr, who became Speaker of the U. S. 
House of Representatives. 

t John F. Tracy, since deceased. 



212 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

turned np and high collar, is Clinton George, the 
hatter. The man in plaid red camlet cloak is Abijah 
Fross ; the little man in black dress coat is Sjdves- 
ter W. Randall, the lawyer ; and there are Cjrenus 
E. Webster, Walter F. Mains, P. K Rockwell and 
Henry Clark. The grave-looking man, with coat 
of ''swallow tail," long behind, and hands in pant- 
aloon pockets, is Solomon Walters ; and here we 
leave them standing at the Eighth street corner, 
and mayhap we shall return some day to learn the 
subject of their discussion. 



YII. 

The Old Academy.* 

First Letter. 

One dreamy Indian summer day last fall, three 
middle-aged men entered the Old Academy 
grounds on Ninth Street. One of them had just 
returned from the Pacific coast after an absence 
of twenty years ; the second, the gray-haired man, 

* The sketches inserted here, under the head of " The Old 
Academy " were contributed by Mr. Moorhead, in 1870-71, 
to a paper published at that time by the boys of the school 
and called The Academy. Mr. M. was a loyal son of the old 
school, and took great pleasure in recounting reminiscences 
of the days of James Park and Reid T. Stewart, principals 
of glorious memory. Ed. 



TEE OLD ACADEMY. 21S 

is a resident of this city ; the third was the writer 
of this brief communication. 

All had been students of the Old Academy twenty- 
five and thirty years ago, and had passed through 
the administrations of Park, Bradley, Limber, and 
Stewart.* In our day the arrangement was some- 
what different from what it is at present. The 
brick wing of the old building is a modernism. 
We knew it not. The main room inside seemed 
to our young eyes of vast extent. The round 
posts of great size, supporters in the interior ot 
the room, had been split and shattered by a thun- 
der-bolt. Huge fire-places in the east and west 
ends glowed in season with bright fires made from 
"four-foot" hickory wood. Each boy brought in a 
stick on his shoulder, at the termination of recess. 
A. K, G. R, T. D. J., J. F. T., and other wags 
spent the time of recess in searching for the crook- 
edest sticks in the piles, and generally received an 
order from ''Old Jimmy Park" to "about face" 
and march out again with their load. 

The seats at this time were three lines deep, 
each line raised higher than the other, faced north, 
and extended across the entire room. Three tiers 
of seats occupied the north and east half of the 
room and faced to the south. Mr. Park occupied 
an arm-chair, sometimes upon an elevated pulpit- 
like platform in the west end, and at other times a 



* From 1837 to 1845. 



21j^ old times in ERIE. 

little north of the center of the room. I remember 
this very distinctly, for I was accustomed to select 
a seat which brought me in a right line with Mr. 
Park and one of the aforesaid shattered posts, for 
divers and sundr}^ reasons and purposes. The 
desks were painted white and had lids to open 
and close. 

My two friends and I sat near each other at 
school, away back in 1837 and later, and of course 
had reminiscences of the past as we walked under 
the great sycamores and maples that afternoon last 
fall. Every stone, every window of the old build- 
ing had for us some history. A "wild boy" from 
'^Jerusalem" was once detained after school, and 
locked in the west room upstairs, during the tem- 
porary absence of the teacher. He jumped from 
the second story window to the ground and walked 
off uninjured. He was bare-footed; and I re- 
member after this feat (no pun intended), we looked 
close at the sharp stones in the ground next the 
building, and wondered how he had escaped un- 
hurt. 

One warm day, we that sat up stairs with Mr. 
James C. Eeid had a jolly good laugh. The south 
windows were hoisted, and a wag of a fellow, 
known as Jim L., was perched in one of the win- 
dows, book in hand, and looking out he coolly re- 
marked : "I guess it will rain to-day, Mr. Reid." 
Mr. R., ferule in hand (ferule of heavy curled 
maple), "went for" Jimmie, and he, not relishing 



THE OLD ACADEMY. 215 

what was in store for him, dropped his book, 
reached out, caught the lightning rod, and leisurely 
lowered himself to the ground and walked off. 
Jimniie was a sad boy at school, and there was no 
end to his pranks. He died in Michigan many 
years ago. 

In the same upstairs room I was sitting one 
day in front of the broad fire-place, detained at 
recess. Mr. Callender was the teacher. Three 
young ladies, Sarah and Helen W. and Emily 
H., were reciting, when bang, snap, crack, went 
something from the fire in quick succession of 
sound. I was the only boy in the room. The 
teacher "went for" me, and, my body describing a 
semi-circle, I "lit" for the center of the room. I 
denied all complicity in producing the explosion, 
but circumstances were strongly against me. I 
was just receiving a lecture upon the heinousness 
of falsehood, preparatory to a good warming, when 
several additional explosions were heard, and the 
ashes flew out lively upon the hearth. The teacher 
now divining the cause, passed quickly out of the 
room, up the second stairs, through the garret and 
out on the top of the building. He saw no one, 
and was sorely puzzled; but wishing to be doubly 
sure, he continued his search, and snugly cuddled 
up beh.nd the east chimney he found a little fellow 
with a percussion cap in his hand. He had been 
having fun on his own hook — throwing the caps 
down the chimney. This "little fellow" was my 



216 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

gray-haired companion that Indian summer day- 
last fall. 

If I were to sit down among you, boys, I could 
tell you many things concerning the dear Old 
Academy and its friends and scholars ; but as 
your paper is small I will not run the risk of being 
called a garrulous old fellow today. 

Second Letter. 

It requires no effort to remember James Park as 
he appeared thirty years ago, dressed in solemn 
black, with his straight dress-coat, large pants, and 
low shoes. His complexion was sallow, face 
smoothly shaven, hair brushed forward at the sides 
and straight up in the center. He always crossed 
his legs when seated, and had the habit of ^' crack- 
ing" his knuckle joints by pressing the back of his 
hand against his chin while hearing recitations. 
Another habit of this old bachelor teacher was 
the quick nervous jerk of his right arm, and then 
a severe and enquiring examination of his thumb 
and fore-finger for superfluous hairs from the re- 
gion of his nostrils. 

My recollection of Mr. Park is, that he was very 
severe and exacting — not without a quiet humor 
of his ow^n ; but still he seemed to stand upon an 
elevation, and we never got quite near him. He 
used to say to us, " The Bible is the best book, and 
then comes Ross's Latin Grammar." 



TEE OLD ACADEMY. 217 

He never seemed so well pleased as when hear- 
ing classes in the languages. He fairly revelled in 
Cicero, Sallust and Horace, particularly the latter, 
and after the lesson was over, he would read page 
upon page for the edification of the class. 

The advanced scholars read Hale's U. S. History ; 
the others I think read Parley's first, second and 
third books. Mr. Park had a way of calling out 
quite sharply to all idlers while hearing recitations. 
One day while hearing a class in reading, and con- 
stantly prompting and correcting a great hulk of a 
fellow who came to school from ** over the canal," 
Mr. Park, with one ej^e continually on the look- 
out, called out, " Lapsley is idle ! " and our blun- 
dering reader promptly re-echoed in his loud, lout- 
ish voice, Mr. Park's exclamation. We sent up a 
shout throughout the room, in which the teacher 
joined. 

We had two or three scholars who always took 
advantage of this tacit allowance of what was al- 
most involuntary merriment, by letting out horse 
laughs which always prolonged and increased the 
fun, until the sharp rap of that old heavy maple 
ruler buttoned the lips of the school with the 
quickness of thought. 

One of those loud laughers led a brigade at the 
storming of Marye's Heights. I saw him wounded 
and stretched on a litter afterwards. Since then I 
do not know his whereabouts. Another laughs as 
loud as ever in the streets of Erie to-day. 



218 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

Mr. Park had a class of ^yQ in Sallust. Two of 
them are dead; four of the five went to college; 
the fifth was early in life thrown upon his own re- 
sources, and he has made his way in the world with 
more pecuniary advantage to himself than any of 
his fellows. 

Two boys of that day had what the scholars 
called a " pick " at each other. One was shrewd, 
sharp, and quick at study — the other directl}^ the 
reverse. The first is to-day an adventurer; the 
other counts his wealth by millions; but it is pos- 
sible that the adventurer enjoys life with more zest 
and has more real happiness than the millionaire. 

The idea of wealth necessarily bringing happi- 
ness is exploded. There are quiet men going 
about the streets in Erie, that were scholars in the 
Old Academy, who have not been what the world 
calls successful in life ; but they learned within 
those old walls of stone that which raises them im- 
measurably above many of the so-called successful 
ones, and gives them a superiority in the minds of 
those whose good opinions they care for and ap- 
preciate. Disraeli says in his latest book that 
'• The feeling of safety, almost inseparable from 
large possessions, is a surer cause of misery than 
ungratified desires." 

But to return to Mr. Park. He was a thorough 
disciplinarian, and made his mark upon his scholars 
mentally and physically. I believe that some years 
after leaving Erie he was located upon a farm ou 



TEE OLD ACADEMY. 219 

the banks of the Ohio, some where near Galliopolis. 
If any of your readers can give us any light in 
regard to him after he left Erie, I wish they would 
do so through your paper.* 

Third Letter. 

Principal Stewart's discipline was of the most 
thorough nature. He acted upon the assumption 
that every scholar was sent to school to gain knowl- 
edge, and was capable of learning something^ and he 
graduated the number and length of the lessons 
and the character of the study to the scholar's 
abilities with the most exquisite nicety. He knew 
every pupil in all the departments and the exact 
standard of their acquirements. 

At the close of his last term as Principal 
there were some three hundred in attendance. 
At that time there was a very large number of 
students in the languages, and to these Mr. Stew- 
art devoted himself with a peculiar relish. A 
thorough Latin scholar himself, he could not for an 
instant tolerate an imperfect lesson, and when it 
was the result of idleness or inattention, he was 
swift and merciless in his punishment. The hoarse 
' swish ' of that fearful strap, as it descended on 

* A subsequent writer in The Academy stated that Mr. 
Park removed to Bardolph, 111., in 1865, There he still 
makes his home — an old man, but vigorous both in mind 
and body. — Ed. 



220 OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

some lazy blunderer's back, used to symbolize to 
my terrified imagination the horrors of the knout. 
I took a sort of hideous pleasure in counting the 
strokes when some boy was getting walloped, and 
my sympathetic flesh would crawl with every yelp, 
in anticipation of the time when I should catch it. 
He had a happy faculty of catching some blund- 
ering translation, or some outrageous pronunciation 
on the part of a scholar, and instantly manufactured 
a nick-name that was sure to stick. A student once, 
in reciting Yiri Romae, had the misfortune to pro- 
nounce miserahile, miserybilly, and to the end ot his 
career as a scholar he was '^ Misery Billy. " A 
bright and promising scholar, Henry Law, was 
"Lex" to the day of his death. John Melhorn, in 
translating the story of Abraham's intended sacri- 
fice of his son Isaac, discovered "a ram horny in the 
bushes," and so unmercifully was he quizzed, that 
it became his principal occupation at the close of 
school to chase the crowds of small boys that 
would shout it at him from a safe distance. 

Not among the least difficult of Mr. Stewart's 
tasks was to keep in good order the big girls that 
were under his particular charge. Those that were 
the most intellectual he inspired with a spirit ot 
emulation ; others again he would drive into study- 
ing with his unsparing ridicule. He had an unfail- 
ing way of crushing any one that became unusually 
smart or pert, by suddenly quoting for her benefit, 



TEE OLD ACADEMY. 221 

and in a way to attract the attention of the- whole 
school : 

*• O wad some pow'r the giftie gie ns 

To see oursels as ithers see us ! 

It wad fvsd mony a blunder free us 

And foolish notion : 
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us." 

Mr. Stewart diligently devoted all his spare mo- 
ments from the Academy to the study of law in the 
of&ce of the Hon. James Thompson ; and during 
his last half-term completed his studies and was ad- 
mitted to the bar, and made arrangements to embark 
in practice at the close of the quarter. I remember 
that during all that term he seemed to be imbued 
with the spirit of sadness. He seemed reluctant to 
part with the school and scholars. The arrange- 
ments for the examination and exhibition were 
made with unusual pains, and the participants in 
the exhibition were selected from the brightest of 
the scholars. He seemed to desire to make it the 
crowning glory of his life. I reproduce here the 

PROGRAMME 

OF THE 

EXAMINATION AND EXHIBITION IN 

Erie Academy, 

Friday, Sept. 19th, 1845. "^ 



222 



OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 



9 o'clock a. m., in the Academy. 

examination in the mathematical and english 
departments. 



U o'clock p. M., at THE ACADEMY. 

Examination in tiie Clasical Department, and reading of the 
"Moss Rose," a weekly sheet, edited and contributed to by 
the following young ladies : 



Miss Jane E. Adams, 

" Mary Brewster, " 

♦♦ C. E. Fleming, " 

♦* Sarah J. Jackson, " 

•' M. E. Jackson " 
*' Eliza W. Kille, 

*• Maria R. Hayes, ** 
Miss Mary E. Winchell 



Miss M. M. Lamberton, 

" Lucinda C. Lytle. 

" E. M. Mehaffey, 

" S. G. Thompson, 

" H. M. Williams, 

" Sarah J. Williams. 

** Catherine Sterrett. 



At the Associate Reformed Church, 7i o'clock, P. M. 

ORDER OF EXERCISES. 

Henry Law, Prologue. 

Richard F. Gaggin, Latin Oration. 

J. Ross Thompson, Texas. 

George Kendig, German Oration. 

S. B. Sullivan, Dow, Jr. 



ESSAYS. 



John H. Warren, 
George F. Buell, 
Darius Lee, 
William Brewster, 
Ebenezer Backus, 
Isaac Moorhead, 



The Pilgrims. 

Excerpta. 

Ourselves. 

Miscellaneous. 

The Spirit of the Age. 

The Literary Review. 



THE OLD ACADEMY. 

ORIGINAL ORATIONS. 

Hugh D. M'Cann, Roman Literature. 

John Melhorn, Sympathy. 

AVm. R. Davenport, The School-boy. 

James W. Shirk, Henry Clay. 

Julius Hoskinson, Something. 

Andrew H. Caughey, Mutability. 



DEBATE. 

Question: — "Do present circumstances portend the per- 
petuity of our Government?" 

Aff., H. L. Sloan.— Neg., Wilson Laird. 

George W. Taggart, Valedictory, on the part of the Students, 
to Reid T. Stewart, who leaves the Academy as Principal. 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT AND DISMISSAL. 



George W. Taggart, who delivered the Valedic- 
tory, familiarl}^ known as Honey Taggart, was a 
scholar of unusually fine acquirements, good address 
and easy delivery. No valedictory of the many I 
heard in after years ever seemed to come up to the 
standard of Taggart's. It exjDressed with great pa- 
thos the love and affection that Mr. Stewart's schol- 
ars bore to him, and the great debt they owed him 
for his unwearied patience with them and his un- 
rivalled skill in his teachings. When Mr. Stew- 
art rose to reply, he seemed at first embarrassed. 
His voice trembled when he began to speak, and 
his touching allusion to the many eyes that now 
looked upon him for the last time as teacher, caused 



22 Jf OLD TIMES IN ERIE. 

a thrill of emotion that seemed almost like a dread 
presentiment to many a heart. 

Two days after this exhibition Mr. Stewart was 
married to Miss Ellinor Reid, a daughter of the late 
Eev. Robert Reid, the first principal of the Acade- 
my, and left for his hojne in Westmoreland county, 
Penn., on a bridal trip ; and in twenty days there- 
after he died at his father's house from an attack 
of fever. 

Thus in the first dawn of manhood, just entering 
upon a more extended career of usefulness, when 
his whole future seemed bright, glorious, full of 
promise, passed away one to whom the Academy 
owed its greatest glories. Far and wide over the 
earth are scattered *his pupils. They are found in 
the Army and the E"avy ; they are Congressmen, 
clergymen, presidents and superintendents of rail- 
road companies, governmental officials ranking al-. 
most with Cabinet Ministers, members of State 
Cabinets ; and even as I write I recall a newspaper 
paragraph of yesterday mentioning one just elected 
speaker of a Territorial Senate. But in the hearts 
of all, I ween, are cherished no more pleasant 
memories than those of Reid T. Stewart. 



SELECTIONS EROM THE 
HISTORY OF THE BARNETT EAMILY. 



From my earliest recollection until July, 1837, 
I was much of my time with my Granrlf\ither and 
Grandmother in Fairview Township, Erie County, 
Pennsylvania, and heard from them very much 
about Dauphin County, Hanover Church, and 
numerous persons whose names appear between 
the lids of this book. When a little bo}^ I made the 
resolve, if life w^as spared to me, to visit Hanover 
and Hanover Church, Beaver Creek, the Swatara 
and Mauada. After a lapse of thirty years I have 
made good my resolution, and in doing so have 
gained some items not wholly devoid of interest 
to our connection. 

* **=!«* While we are considerins^ the char- 
acteristics, the habits and the accomplishments of 
the men of the past age, not born to fortune and 
position, great allowance must be made in all cases 
for the day, and particularly the place, in wdiich 
they lived. Our ancestors, driven from the homes 
of their forefathers and the scenes of their child- 
hood, took refuge in the North of Ireland. Rest- 



/ 



226 SELECTIONS FROM 

less and dissatisfied, the Barnett Family embarked 
in 1734 for America. 

William Penn had landed in this countrj^ in 
1682. He had sent a party ahead, however, who 
settled at Upland, now Chester, Dec. 11th, 1681. 
Penn had procured his lands by treaty and actual 
purchase from the Indians. His sons followed the 
same praiseworthy example. His deeds were from 
the Susquehanaghs, the Conestogas and the Five 
Nations. Peace, prosperity and happiness came 
to Penn's settlement, and he returned to England, 
dying in Buckinghamshire in 1718, having lived 
beyond the allotted life of man. 

John Harris, a native of Yorkshire, England, 
settled near an Indian village named Peixtan, at 
or near the present site of Harrisburg, about 1725. 
In these early years, colonies of Swiss Mennonites, 
French Huguenots, Germans and Scotch-Irish 
were formed in various parts of lower Pennsyl- 
vania. 

The name of the original Barnett of this fam- 
ily that came to America is unknown. He is bur- 
ied in Hanover church-yard with his wife, but no 
inscribed stone marks his resting-place. They be- 
longed to the army of Scotch-Irish Presbyterians 
who began to arrive in this country in numbers 
about 1719. They came direct from the JSTorth of 
Ireland, and landing in Philadelphia, and pushing 
across the fertile plains of Derry — leaving these 
fine unoccupied lands behind them because in that 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. 227 

day they were utterly destitute of timber — they 
located directly at the base of the Blue Mountain, 
where timber, water and stone were to be had in 
abundance — advantages particularly attractive to 
emigrants from an old settled country. 

Here Mr. Barnett bought a large tract, reaching 
from the forks of Beaver Creek to the top of the 
Blue Mountain, overlooking *'the land of the 
Philistines."* Here, in the Forks of Beaver Creek^ 
he built a — for that daj^ — large log house, which 
stands firm and solid to-day. Uncle Kichard Bar- 
nett says his grandfather, father and all his father's 
children were born in that log house. Here he 
lived and reared his family, giving them such mea- 
gre advantages of education as were afforded in. 
the wilderness to farmers' sons. 

I have heard my Grandfather tell of the old 
Scotch-Irish school-masters of his day, — stern, se- 
vere old fellows, who made the birch the principal 
persuader to the paths of rectitude and application. 
I remember one or two school-day incidents. A 
small boy w^as to be punished ; he was mounted 
upon the back of a larger one, who stood up 
while the birch was well laid on. The denoue- 
ment will not do for the pages of this book. One 
day, in cutting the hair of his son Richard, the son 
said, "shear me close, daddy, shear me close, so 
the master can't get a grup of me !" 

* Uncle Richard Barnett so called then. M. 



r 

I - 



228 SELECTIONS FROM 

I have beard my Grandfather tell of the return 
of his brother William from his captivity among 
the Indians. He was exceedingly loth to give up 
his Indian dress; was quiet and morose, and would 
go alone to unoccupied rooms, and sing in a low 
tone his wild Indian songs. He Avas sober, sedate, 
straight as an arrow, and quick in running and 
jumping as a cat. He died and was buried in 
Philadelphia. 

After he and young Mackey were captured, the 
elder Mackey's horse was secured and the boys 
tied upon him with thongs of leather-wood bark. 
They Avere carried awa}^ to Presque-Isle and thence 
to Sandusky; "and I have often," said my Grand- 
father to me, " thought that my feet might have 
pressed the same earth hei'e in Erie Count}^ as did 
the feet of my poor little captive brother." 

In the early life of my Grandfather in Dauphin 
County, the carrying trade was all done by the 
great Pennslyvania wagons with five and six horses 
attached; and he frequently told me of trips made 
by him to Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, and down the 
valley in Virginia. He often spoke of Winchester, 
Staunton and the Natural Bridge. He spoke with 
much enthusiasm of the grandeur of the Natural 
Bridge, and the fine, open, hearty character of the 
people in all that region, many of whom went 
there from Pennsylvania. 

I have often heard him speak of a trip he made 
down there with a cargo of nails to sell. Between 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. 220 

Winchester and Staunton he fell short of money, 
and finding no sale for his nails was in a strait as 
to how to get on. He stopped one night at a tavern, 
determined to pledge his '' lifth horse," the leader, 
for his bill. As he sat in the bar-room a black 
man came in. The landlord enquired of him: ^' Is 
the granary locked?" ^'Yes." ''Is the smoke-house 
locked ?" '' Yes." " Is the spring-house locked ?" 
"Yes." Turning to the landlord, Grandfather 
said : " Landlord, do you think I am come to rob 
you ? " " Oh, no," said he ; " but the niggers are 
such great thieves we have to lock everything up." 
" I see you have a whipping-post in tli« yard," said 
Grandfather. "Yes," said the landlord, " but it is 
seldom used; and they don't mind it long." 
Grandfather then told the landlord his pecuniary 
condition. 

A stranger present, hearing the story, enquired 
how much money he wanted. Grandfather thought 
about twenty dollars. " Come with me to my 
house/' said he, " and I will lend you the money." 
He went, received the amount and offered some of 
his nails in pledge. The Virginian declined them. 
He then offered his note. He declined that also, say- 
ing : "I see you are not a Yankee, and I'll trust you. 
If you mean to cheat me, you'll do it in any event." 
Grandfather went on, and in a few days sold his 
cargo of nails, and coming back he called at the 
house of his Virginia friend, which was a little off 
the road. "Well, my friend," said he, "I am not 



i230 SELECTIONS FROM 

going to cheat you this time/' — and repaid him ; 
at the same time thankino^ him, and remarkinsr 
that probably he never would have an opportunity 
to do him a favor. " Well," said the Virginian, 
"do it to somebody else ! " Grandfather would al- 
ways wipe his eyes at the conclusion of this story. 



My recollections of the time when Grandfather 
lived in the old, old house in Fairview are very indis- 
tinct. I think I remember, when a little child, of 
being at the old house and seeing a deer driven 
into the yard, hunted by men and dogs. The new 
house, where Grandfather lived when I remember 
best concerning him, had but three rooms on the 
ground floor. The east room was the sleeping 
room, and in it was a large, open Franklin stove. 
In the west room there was a great box stove, and 
in the north room or kitchen an open tire-place. 

Grandfather always rose early in the morning, 
and proceeded with some deliberation and nicety 
to dress himself He was always dressed in blue 
cloth — would wrap his handkerchief about his shirt 
sleeve, hold the ends in his hand, and then put on 
his coat. This was done after tying an immense 
black handkerchief of silk twice about his neck. 
He then proceeded to smoke a single pipe of tobac- 
co, always before breakfast, which he enjoyed with 
great gusto, but never again indulging during the 
day excepting when unwell, which was always indi- 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. 231 

catecl by his wearing his broad-brimmed beaver hat, 
made by John Morris. 

I remember him in the happy old days of 1835-8 
as a great reader of "Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress/' 
''Buck's Theological Dictionary," ^'Dick's Works," 
"Knox's Essays/' "The Fool of Quality/'— but par- 
ticularly "Scott's Family Bible/' places in its sev- 
eral volumes marked with bits of paper, "old man/' 
rose leaves, &c. I read often to him from the Bible, 
and after listening with rapt attention, leaning for- 
ward in that old arm chair, made by George Landen, 
he would bring his hand down with great emphasis 
npon the arm of the chair, saying to me, "^Now, Ma- 
jor Pilgore, give us the 'Practical Observations !' " I 
cannot remember why he called me by that name, 
but he did so as long as he lived. 

We had a large Scotch terrier named "Torry 
Mc Curtell," and a great mastiff named "Bose." 
Torry was death on mice and rats, and many a pile 
of boards and stones did Torry and I overturn to 
get at field-niice, which we destroyed in quantities. 

After being "out of sorts" for a day, Grandfather 
would rise the next morning very cheerful, and 
standing erect would say, "Major, I am all right 
this morning; I feel as though the Swatara had run 
through me." After breakfast he would take a 
stiff drink of cider, laced with ginger, and then 
would, at my request often, tell me the stories of 
his boyhood. At this time he had passed the three 
score years and ten — "the days of our years." 



^S2 SELECTIONS FROM 

I walked with him often about the farm. He 
always insisted on my walking in advance of him, 
and would give me sharp directions about walking 
properl}^ holding up my head, throwing back the 
shoulders, &c. ; and always was very particular that 
my clothes were clean and in perfect order. He 
had a rare stock of laughable stories on hand 
which he frequently related. His son Richard in- 
herited this peculiarity. 

He and his wife Martha joined the Presbyterian 
church in West Hanover, under the ministration of 
the Rev. Mr. Snodgrass, in October, 1793. I re- 
member the great earnestness of his prayers. I 
have often seen him nearly overcome with emotion 
at such times. 

When he broke up house-keeping and went to 
live in Harborcreek with his daughter Matilda, his 
passion for a horse did not forsake him, and he an- 
nounced that while he lived he would own a horse. 
The last one he parted with was an elegant black. 
I have two letters written by Grandfather in 1840 
and addressed to me when I was a boy. He died at 
the house of his son-in-law, George Moorhead, in 
Harborcreek, Nov. 19th, 1848, aged 84. 

Mrs. Rebecca Barnett, my Grandmother, died in 
Jul}^ 1837. Although young at the time of her 
death, I can remember it well. My mother had 
been absent most of the summer nursing her, and 
one July day news came that she was gone. I went 
with my father to Fairview, and was soon face to 



THE BARRETT HISTORY. 2S3 

face with the great grief of my childliood ; for in 
my earliest recollection her image was blended with 
that of my mother. She entered fnlly into all my 
cliildish joys and sorrows, and indulged me but too 
freely in all my idle whims and vagaries. 

I can see her now, sitting in the old hickory- 
split seated chair, in the middle room, at the west 
window, in her cap and spectacles. She is dressed 
in brown, — something like the merino of this day 
— with binding about the ends of the sleeves at the 
wrists, of velvet of the same color. A blue ker- 
chief — light blue with orange spots — covers her 
neck and breast, crossed in front and pinned on the 
waist at her side. Fastened at her side is a quill 
inserted in cloth, to retain the end of a knitting- 
needle. Her snuffbox is on the stand before her. 
Upon her knee is her basket of work. Her scissors 
hang at her side attached by a green tape of wors- 
ted. She loosens the fiistenings from wonderfully 
neat-looking little pacquet books of morocco and 
silk, displaying the treasures within. I seize some- 
tliing, and holding it up, desire to be the possessor 
of it. Turning her dark smiling face toward me, 
I read in her soft, chestnut-colored eyes of unutter- 
able beauty the answer framed with her lips, "You 
can have it in welcome." She was the daughter of 
Col. Timothy Green, and was born in 1763, inWest 
Hanover, Dauphin county, Pennsjdvania. * * 

I here insert two extracts from my log book as 
pertinent to what has been written. 



23J!t SELECTIONS FROM 

May 27, 1867. Caroline, Ruth, Max and I at 
Fairview. I walked to the cemetery near the vil- 
lage, and visited the graves of my Grandfather and 
Grandmother. It was thirty years since I had stood, 
a little boy, and seen my Grandmother's remains 
placed in the ground. How plainly it all came 
back to me to-day — the long procession of wagons 
winding over the hills and across Walnut Creek (the 
church was near Swan's and the yard adjoined it) ; 
the prayers by Eev. Lewis — the sermon by the 
pastor, Mr. Eaton, from the text "the days of our 
years are three score years and ten, but if by reas- 
on of strength", etc. 

I had spent a great portion of my life with my 
Grandmother. Losing her was my first great grief. 
It was the keenest and deepest sorrow of my life. 
I have scarce felt anything since more desolating. 

* * Perry procured a wagon, and I started with 
the children on the old road to Grandfather Bar- 
nett's. The children were on the qui vive when 
they learned that we were going to the old place 
where I had lived when a little boy, and the scene 
of so many of the stories I had told them. '•' '•' * 
I stood upon the large stone at the front door, with 
two little palms in mine, those of my children. 
In a moment they faded from my presence and I 
was a child again. The years rolled back. I 
recognized every vein and seam in that graywacke 
stepping-stone. The door was open. Grand- 
father sits in the door where the sun can shine 



7 HE BARNETT HISTORY. 235 

upon his limbs. He would always say, ^'Major, the 
sun in the spring of the year does one's bones so 
much more good than the fire." Grandmother is 
in the west window beside her work table, her 
slight figure a picture* of neatness and order. 

I turn, and the little hands are again in mine. 
I look toward the east for the view down the road. 
A great fir, high as the house, has grown in the 
way of my view since I was here. It seems not 
near so far from the door to the gate on the road 
as it did thirty years ago. Down to the spring- 
house — up in the loft, the stairs grown fearfully 
rickety now — under the monstrous grape-vine — 
over to the spring with the wild red plum-tree be- 
side it, — is it the same frog that goes c-lamp to the 
bottom of its pure waters? — then into and through 
he house. 

0, the blessed, bright and happy memories of 
childhood ! What a weary round I have gone since 
my feet crossed this threshold. I am past the mid- 
dle of life ; all the children have grown to man's es- 
tate ; Father and Mother "sleep the sleep that knows 
no waking;" and here I stand, with two sweet, 
sober little faces looking with deep interest into 
mine as I tell them of the past, and point out to 
them the exact scenes of so many stories of that 
bright and happy time. 

>(s * * * * * 



2S6 SELECTIONS FROM 

Uncle Josepli'-'- informed me that they had glori- 
ous times at Erie. The town was full of officers and 
soldiers, and the place even at that early date boasted 
much good society. The principal loitering place 
was on French street, and the center of attraction 
was always about the corners at the intersection of 
French and Fifth streets. For two years Erie was 
a great gathering place for the officers, and General 
Harrison, Commodores Perry and Elliot, and hosts 
of others sauntered up and down French street, or 
strayed along the banks of the lake to the block- 
house and fort. Here Sen at died a victim to the 
accursed code duello, and Bird fell at a volley of 
our own men for desertion. Alonsr these g^vQQW 
banks the Jesuit Fathers, De la Roche and Bra- 
boeuf, had raised the banner of the cross before 
the curious eyes of the warlike Fries; and Morang, 
Derpontency and Legardeur de St. Pierre, knights 
of the order of St. Louis, had unfurled to the 
breeze the lilies of France. 

Then men of another race came to Presque Isle; 
but the Indian war-whoop was heard, the garrison 
all scalped save one, and the "meteor flag of Eng- 
land" carried in triumph to the Indian encamp- 
ment at the Cascade. 

The Forsters and the Wallaces and the Wilsons, 
from Dauphin County, were settled here, and with 

* Ml". Barnett had come as a soldier to the Lake region 
with the troops from Dauphin county during the war of 1812. 

Ed. 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. • 237 

the Duncans and other families made a gay society 
at Erie. I have heard uncle speak of dancing on 
the long upper porch of the old Forster house on 
French street. He said that after Timothy Allen's* 
death he found in his possession — indeed under 
his pillow — a lady's handkerchief with a name 
upon it. It was that of one of the daughters of 
Col. Forster to whom he paid great attention while 
the army lay at Erie. Col. Thomas Forster, the 
younger, in his life-time, said to me that if Tim- 
othy Allen had lived he would have been his 
brother-in-law. 

One day's march from Erie to Buffalo alwnys 
brought the detachment to Moorhead's, my Gi*and- 
father's. When the battalion to which the Cliam- 
bersburg company belonged moved towards Buffalo, 
it was known along the road in advance, the fame 
of their soldierly appearance having preceded them. 
I have heard my father's oldest sister say that the 
young ladies of that region gathered at the inn 
kept by my Grandfather, and crowded the porch, 
waving their handkerchiefs as the company arrived 
in the evening. She remembered Timothy Allen 
very well. They had heard of him while he was 
in Erie, and she spoke in admiration of his very 
gentlemanly appearance. 

* Timothy Allen was the son of Rebecca Green Allen, wife 
of Col. Wni. Allen, an officer in the Revolution. After her 
husbancrs death she married Moses Barnett, and became the 
mother of Rebecca Barnett, Isaac Moorhead's mother. Ed. 



238 SELECTIONS FROM 

Prior to leaving Erie, Timoth}^ Allen made liis 
will leaving a portion of bis estate to a little fair- 
haired sister of six years, far away in Dauphin 
County. At this first camp from Erie he saw a 
boy of nine years — the Innkeeper's son — gleaning 
a harvest of sixpences in the camp by furnishing 
tow to the soldiers to clean their firelocks. The 
little girl found her way to the shores of the great 
lake, grew to womanhood, and married the Inn- 
keeper's son ; and I who write these notes call them 
Father and Mother. 

I detail now the account given me by Aunt Jane 
Barnett : " After a wearisome march of hardship 
and exposure they reached the village of Buftalo. 
Your Uncle Allen sickened with cold, and camp- 
fever ensued. Your Uncle Joseph in vain tried to 
get shelter for him in Bufiido. The place was 
small and the accommodations few. He took him 
out on the Williamsville road to Landis's tavern, 
about eight or ten miles from Buffalo. They came 
to the house and found only Mrs. Landis at home. 

* Tbat young man is sick,' said she, pointing to 
your Uncle Allen ; ' and I think he is going to die.' 

* You can't stay here,' she added. 

"Uncle Joseph announced that they were ready 
to pay for everything in gold, and that they had no 
place to go. The woman steadily refused permis- 
sion to remain. 

**The man of the house came ; the woman met him 
in the outer room and Uncle heard the muttered dis- 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. 239 

cussioii between them. Both came in, and the man, 
on being appealed to, peremptorily and gruffly said 
that he had no accomodations for soldiers, and they 
must leave. Uncle followed the man out of the 
house, pressing his suit and urging with all his elo- 
quence the dying condition of the young Pennsyl- 
vania gentleman, who had come so far to help to de- 
fend Landis and his neighbors on the frontier. But 
Landis was inexorable. Uncle Joseph turned on 
the man and said, ^ Mr. Landis, we are going to 
stay here whether you are willing or not.' 

" ' Who are 3'ou, sir,' said Landis, turning fierce- 
ly upon the stripling in years, ' that you dare to 
talk so to a man of my age and upon my own soil ? ' 
Looking him full in the face your Uncle said, '1 
am the son of 3Iajor John Barnetf, and that dying 
young mwi in the house is the son of Col. William Al- 
len of Hanover, Dauphin County, Pennsylvania.'' 

"Landis, amazed beyond measure, placed both 
of Uncle's hands within his own, and his eyes fill- 
ing with tears, he said, in a very humble manner, 
'You shall stay, both of you, as long as you wish ;' 
and immediately they re-entered the house, and 
Landis welcomed the sick soldier and his attendant, 
Brigade Surgeon Culbertson, to his home. 

''The secret of this sudden change of treatment 
was, that in the days of the Revolution, Landis re- 
sided in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania, and was 
a tory, and Col. William Allen and Maj. John 
Barnett rescued him, at great hazard, from the 



2JtO SELECTIONS FROM 

hands of his infuriated neighbors, who had the 
rope about his neck and were in tlie act of hang- 
ing him. Tie fled the country and came out to 
this far away place, within sight of British soil, 
where he became a man of wealtli. 

^' Surgeon Culbertson attended your uncle 
faithfully during his last sickness, a!id Landis's 
wife prepared the bod}^ for the grave. * "*= * Your 
Uncle never loved a man as he did Timothy Allen, 
not even those of his own blood, and thirty-five 
years after his death he visited his grave. I was 
with him. I never saw him so much overcome 
with grief as he was on that day. We were in 
the room where he died, and saw the woman who 
prepared his dress for the grave. Timothy Allen's 
tombstone was cut in Pennsylvania and sent out to 
George Rogers, a cousin of my father's living near, 
who set it up and watched and cared for the grave." 

vF ^ TJf vP ■Jfr ^ ^ ^ ¥^ 

What a tumultous tide of thouglit came upon 
me as I scanned this somehow strangely familiar 
landscape.* I felt myself saying "I'm back again." 
The memory of all that I had heard of these places 
came fresh, and it seemed to me that I had return- 
ed to scenes and grounds familiar to me long years 
before by actual presence, and I felt as though I 

* What follows immediately is taken from Mr. Moorliead's 
account of his visit, in tlie winter of 18G8, to the liome of his 
ancestors in Dauphin County — introduced into tlie Barnett 
History. Ed. 



THE BAHNETT HISTORY. 2U 

would like to take a wliip and drive out this mon_ 
grel race that have possessed themselves of this 
fair heritage, and cry with a voice that would 
reach to the E"orthern Lakes, to the fliir and broad 
savannas of all the west, to the golden sands of the 
Pacitic, — aye, the voice must reach to the wliite 
walls of a South American city,* and traversing 
the seas fall upon the ear of onef who is in that 
city hard by the Pyramids — whose projecting bal- 
conies crowd the narrow, curved streets chittered 
with humanity, — directed by infinite goodness-and 
mercy, as he believes, to bring liglit to souls dark- 
er tlian the tawn}^ bodies in which they dwelh 

Oh, wondrous power of faith and trust in God ! 
to leave home, friends, ease — all^ and walk the 
streets of barbarous cities; to mingle with those of 
an alien tongue and race; to meet disease continu- 
allj^ in that great pest-house of the East ; to see every- 
where the scowl of hatred upon the swarthy faces 
of superstitious devotees! But in lines of living 
light to him, though dim and clouded to us, he 
reads the promise, *'I will never leave thee nor 
forsake thee;" and as he remains during the long 
years, until the silent messenger beckons him to 
the shore of the dark river, the eyes, which first 
saw the light here at the base of the Blue Moun- 
tain in Old Hanover, will grow dim in death as 



* Mr. Simonton, Missionary in Brazil, 
t James Barnett, Cairo, Egypt. 



2J^ SELECTIONS FROM . 

they rest upon the purple of the mountains of 
the Holy Land.* ''It matters not : In a little while 
our lips are dumb.". — Fathers! Mothers ! Friends! 
come back to the hills of old Hanover ! 

Aye, let them pass in review ! Come back, Grand- 
father Moses Barnett, with your tall,erect,well-made 
form, in your suit of blue cloth, your coat and vest 
trimmed with brass buttons, your shoes well pol- 
ished, your hands covered with buckskin gloves, 
a cane wdth ivory top whereon was a crack form- 
ing an elongated and fantastic letter 0, a red hand- 
kerchief with light-colored spots upon it hang- 
ing partly out from the flapped coat-pocket upon 
your "bench," — one of your eyes a little crooked, 
and inflamed by reason of small-pox. Your chil- 
dren — here they are; Richard, Ann, Margaret, 
Matilda, Rebecca and Moses. Your young wife, 
Martha Snodgrass — she was dead at twenty-nine — 
lies in Hanover church-3^ard. But a widow, with 
oh such beautiful, dark, chestnut-colored eyes, 
came along one day riding her elegant horse "Hot- 
spur," and as he stooped and slaked his thirst in 
the clear waters of Beaver Creek, those beautiful 
eyes charmed you so that you got on the horse 
with her, and rode, maybe, as far as that stately 
house of stone upon the hill which w^as her home. 

The rumor goes, old Grandfather, that you ask- 
ed her that day to come and live with you on 

* His charge extends to Mount Lebanon. 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. 2^3 

Beaver Creek, and widow-like she consented ; and 
in her brown silk dress she came down to your 
house, in due time, a bride, and your children filed 
in one by one and met their new mother, and her 
children doubtless made mouths at her for what 
they considered her strange desertion of them. 
********* 

Hark ! Hear the deep bay of the hounds upon 
the Blue Mountain. How it echoes back from these 
hills! Away they go with the fleetness of the wind 
toward Mauada Gap. That noted fox-hunter, 
Major John Barnett, mounted upon his favorite 
horse "Pad," is out this morning with his friends 
and his hounds. Here stand his family. At the 
head are Joseph, John and James — James the bril- 
liant one, whose light burned the more intensely 
by reason of the shortness of its duration; John, 
of great energy but hard fortune ; Joseph — here he 
stands beside Timothy Green Allen. Both are in 
the uniform of their country — ruffles at their 
wrists and their breasts. It is the fashion of the 
year 1812. The bloom of youth is upon their 
faces, the light of battle is in their eyes; their 
faces are turned to the north, toward the great 
lakes. 

Farewell, young men ! Tearful eyes follow them. 
Mother, from that stone house upon the hill, let 
your eyes look long upon your son ; ihQj will never 
rest upon him again in this world. Major John, 
reign up a moment and look upon your boy. As 



2JtJf. SELECTIONS FROM 

your record in the revolntion was noble, so will 
your son's be in this second war with the old enemy. 
Old Timothy Allen, look upon your grandson. 
He remembers the record of his father in the Hev- 
olution, and yours, Col. Green, in the same war 
and in the old Indian and French wars, and he 
never will disgrace you. 

Thank God, the future was unknown to j'OU 
then. Hands, then unformed, oh young man, gath- 
ered your bones* tenderly more than half a century 
later, and placed them beside your mother — the 
widow in the stone house upon the hill. Lips, then 
unformed, do continually bless the name of your 
soldier companion, and thank God that a man of so 
much nobleness and generosity was permitted to 
live out nearly the allotted life of man, and leave 
an example so worthy to be followed. 

Eobert Rogers's name I learned to love by reason 
of the tenderness with which it was always men- 
tioned by my mother. Come back with your wife 
with her loving liquid eyes, inherited by her daugh- 
ter Jane,— come back with Rebecca and Jane and 
Effie and all of them. And don't- forget David, 
though far away; bring him, and he and I will 
sit down and talk about the girls in the Miami Val- 
ley in 1846. David Ferguson, come upon your 
horse "Hunter." It is a long, long ride to return. 
You must come from beyond the shores* of the 

*Mr. Moorhead himself performed this pious service. Ed. 



THE BARNETT HISTORY. 2^5 

great river. Bat did yoii not ride on "Hunter/* 
with Grandmother upon ''Hotspur," once upon a 
time, from Hanover to Phihxdelphia in a day? 

Come back. Dr. Simonton, and battle with the 
rider of the white horse. The "King of Terrors" 
has conquered nearly, all of us here in Hanover. 
Why do you remain so long away? Come back, 
Mr. Snodgrass, to your old pulpit in Hanover. 
True, the pieces of it are scattered throughout the 
land, but we will gather them together again and 
cement them with our love. 

Some such idle vagaries as these flitted through 
my brain as I sat beside Robert Stewart on that 
hill, and I thanked God that I sprang from a race 
of such blessed memories. 

To Robert Rogers's noble-looking old house, with 
its ancient paper on the walls, its heavy and plen- 
tiful locks of polished brass, and all the taste and 
elegance of a house of the olden time, with its sin- 
gle Lombardy poplar standing like a sentinel 
guarding the spot, we went. "In that room", said 
Mr. Stewart, "poor Andrew died." Twice to-day, 
how tenderly he spoke of "poor Andrew"! 

We went to the grand residence of David Fer- 
guson — ahouse that will stand for centuries. No- 
thing short of an earthquake can overthrow it. It 
pained me greatly to know that this kind, amiable 
man — this friend of the widow and the fatherless, 
this healer of divisions and settler of disputes — was 
forced by reason of his very goodness of heart to 



^46 SELECTIONS FROM 

leave this delightful spot ; and died nearly alone, 
with none of liis kindred near him, and but few of 
his friends to perform for him the last sad offices 
of affection. But great is his reward in Heaven. 
He lives in a '' house not made with hands, eternal 
in the heavens." Mr. Stewart pointed out the 
room in which they used to be catechised by Mr. 
Snodgrass. 

We went then to the large old stone house of 
my Grandmother, built in the last century, stand- 
ing on the hill, with its bell upon the gable in a 
little turret, and the rope attached, hanging within 
reach of the kitchen. To the noble old house 
I went, and through it to the very garret. The 
wonderful doors, locks, and hinges ! I felt as 
though I would like to relieve John Kramer of 
his tenantry, put it in order, and live there the 
remainder of my days. 

I returned to my friend's house charmed beyond 
measure, and yet saddened with the thoughts and 
sights of the day. 



OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 



* 



'• I really begin to believe you are a Presbyterian and 
Hanoverian in good account; but what do you propose to 
do?''— Bob Hoy. 

"Far from me and from my fireside be such frigid philoso- 
phy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any 
ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery or vir- 
tue." — Dr. Johnson. 



My little collection of facts and incidentsf would 
be very imperfect without some description of Old 
Hanover Church. Here all the affections of our 
people centered, and here they were taught those 
wholesome truths, and treasured up and carried 
away those faithful teachings of Mr. Snodgrass, for 
erudition and practice during the intervals of pub- 
lic worship. During the last century this church 
was very large in numbers. We have definite in- 
formation that at one time there were one hundred 
and twenty families in the congregation. 

* Situated in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania. 

t The reference is to the History of the Barnett Family. 



2J^8 OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 

Wm. Penn gave lands, usually one hundred and 
sixty acres, to the Scotch-Irish Presbyterians, upon 
which were erected a church, a school house, which 
was also the minister's study, and a manse. This 
piece of ground was always known as the Glebe. 

" The Scotch Manse is neither so handsome nor 
80 luxurious in its appointments as the English 
Rectory, but is yet far superior to the home of an 
Episcopalian curate. The landed proprietors are 
bound by law in Scotland to build and keep in re- 
pair a church, a school, and a manse, and also to 
secure a portion of land or glebe for the minister 
of the established church, wdiich in Scotland is 
Presbyterian. " 

These Presbyterians were warlike, having been 
educated in fighting for generations for their faith 
in Scotland and Irehind. The wily Quakers in au- 
thority, and the quarrelsome and crafty Council of 
Pennsylvania, pushed these people to their frontiers 
as a barrier and protection to them from the 
Indians. A vagrant race of Redemptionists from 
the south of Ireland were spewed upon the new 
land and sent up along the Susquehanna. Logan, 
himself an Irishman, writes to Watson : " I must 
owMi, from my own experience in the Land Officcj 
that the settlement of five of these families gave 
me more trouble than fifty of any other people. "■ 
Many debauched Irish came in from Cork in 1741. 
Richard Peters, Logan's successor, makes the same 
complaint, and gives the names of those engaged 



>k 



OLD HANOVER CIWRGH. 2^9 

in the troubles about bind in 1743. The names are 
unmistakably Irish. 

Cumberland County was created in 1750, and 
the proprietaries, "In consequence of the frequent 
disturbances between the German and Irish set- 
tlers, gave orders to their agents to sell no lands in 
either York or Lancaster to the Irish." Advan- 
tageous offers of removal were made to the Irish set- 
tlers of Paxton, Swatara, and Donegal, and were 
accepted by many. 

Councils turned a deaf ear generally to all com- 
plaints of the Scotch-Irish on the frontier. l^o 
fostering hand was held out to protect them from 
the vasrabonds sent anions^ them, nor from the sav- 
ages. But that neglect made them self-reliant, and 
developed those noble characteristics which are 
evident everywhere, and moulded and shaped most 
that is of good report in the centre, south and 
southwest of this land. 

Uncle Richard Barnett, of Girard, in a letter to 
me dated February 15th, 1868, says : " My first 
recollection of Hanover Church was when my 
mother took me to her side in the seat. I asked in 
a whi.^per, ^how the man got up in there.' 'Hush!' 
' Could not see where he got up so high.' Little 
pulpit not much larger than a tub. The congre- 
gation was large at that time ; the church on ordin- 
ary occasions was pretty well filled; on Sacrament 
daj^s the house was crowded." Mr. Sharon of 
Derry generally assisted Mr. Snodgrass on such oc- 



250 OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 

casions, and many of his congregation would be 
there. 

In early times Mr. Snodgrass wore a three-cocked 
hat. So did the squire of that day, being a badge 
of distinction and authorit}^ The bounds of the 
congregation were over twelve miles east and west. 
On the south it reached to Swatara creek, on the 
north it extended to the '4ands of the Philistines," 
or north of the Blue mountains. Mr. Snodo^rass's 
salar}^ was at that time $ 400. He was a practical 
farmer and owned two farms and had them well 
tilled. 

The trustees settled up every IsTew Year's day, on 
which occasion they always partook of good cheer 
at his house, and the guests would often speak in 
praise of the good old apple and peach brandy, and 
other good things. He had his tailoring done by 
one of his members, and once, upon presenting his 
bill, it was thought pretty high by the old gentle- 
man. Mr. Robinson remarked ^' it was paying for 
preaching and was a truck deal — truck for truck." 

About the year 1810 the congregation began to 
diminish. Several large families removed to Ohio, 
and nearly every year afterward by removaj and 
death the congregation became smaller and smaller, 
until there were none. 

I copy from my own notes as follows : Monday, 
Dec. 31st, 1866. At 9 A. M., Rev. Mr. Robinson 
and I started in a close carriage for the country. To- 
day I am to see Old Hanover Church and the " forks 



OLD HANOVEB CHURCH. 251 

of Beaver Creek" for the first time. For thirty 
years I have looked forward to this day. Soon we 
are in the country, within sight of the bank barns 
and substantial establishments of Pennsylvania. 

Ahead of us is the Blue Mountain. We pass 
through Singlestown ; how familiar the name ! 
Here we received directions for finding Mr. Robert 
Stewart's. Mrs. S. was a daughter of Thomas Bar- 
nett. Mr. Stuart and Mr. Barnett had gone to 
Harrisburg. The daylight was short, our time 
of course limited, but when they found who I 
was I was utterly unable to get away. "John, 
here John, put out them horses and feed them.'' 
"ISTo, you shall not go a step." "The like of it ! 
— From Erie county — Rebecca Barnett's son — not 
to eat in this house !" — "Yes, yes, — take off your 
coats. John will go with you to the old place. 
You must stay all night. We'll go with you to the 
old church to-morrow and take you back to Har- 
risburg when you wish." 

My friend nodded assent, and down we sat be- 
side a stove — such a stove as was in the middle 
room at Grandfather's in Fairview thirty years ago ; 
and on the stove were the words "Mauada Fur- 
nace." Mauada ! how familiar was that name twen- 
ty-five or thirty years ago. — "Yes, John will go 
over and show you where Grandpap Barnett was 
shot and where Uncle William was carried off by 
the Indians. — You must go out and look at the 
old house. Grandpap Robert Stewart lived there; 



252 OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 

it's more tlian a liundred years old. There are port- 
boles in it to fire on the Indians. Oh what times 
they had then. If you could only have heard the 
old people tell how they bid other good bye after 
prayers when they lay down to sleep ! Tlie Indians 
were all about then." 

We entered the old log house. Door of double 
thickness and cut horizontally, like a mill door. 
The fire-place was the most extraordinary I had 
ever seen. There were nine feet of clear fire-place 
and immense jambs on either side. We stepped 
into it and looked up the broad, open-mouthed 
chimney to the clouds drifting overhead. 

Nothing but fire could reduce such a house. In- 
dian arrows and bullets would avail nothino^a2:ainst 
sucb logs. After going through the house I stopped 
again on the hearth, and I thought how many feet 
had rested upon those well-worn stones, — all of my 
Grandfather's and Great-grandfather's people, and 
all of their numerous friends and relatives in this 
region, and manj^, many others whose names I shall 
read to-day in Hanover church-3'ard. Our kind rela- 
tive and entertainer spoke of the old church. 
*' We are," said she, ^Hhe last family of the congre- 
gation left in Hanover." 

We were called to dinner, and such a dinner I 
have not seen in many a day. Everything that was 
good and in abundance. Mr. Robinson gave thanks 
before and after the meal. After dinner they pro- 
duced the communion service of the old church — 



OLD HANOVER CEURCE. 25S 

four plates, three goblets and server. The fourth 
goblet is in possession of Scott Rogers, of Dayton, 
Ohio. Aunt Jane Barnett has the christening 
bowl. I thought of tlie hands that had carried and 
the lips that had pressed these sacred vessels — near- 
ly all of them now the dust of the earth. 

They are of heavy britannia, or some such ware. 
Upon the backs of the plates w^as a crown, wdth the 
w^ords "Joseph Spackman, Cornliill, London— made 
in London." Then Mrs. Stewart produced the 
old church books of record kept by Mr. Snodgrass. 
* =^ * Time was pressing; we bade these kind 
friends of unbounded hospitality good bye, and 
about a mile away we forded Beaver Creek, and 
in the forks of Beaver Creek was our old, old 
home, the house still standing where Grandfather 
and Mother and Aunt Matilda and Uncles Richard 
and Moses were born. It was a large, high-storied, 
old log house, built more than a hundred years ago. 
Holes had been cut in places convenient for de- 
fence against the Indians. The door had heavy 
wn-ought hinges of iron, reaching the entire widtli 
of it. The stairs were much worn with the tramp- 
ing of feet for a centur3\ * * * 

But we must go; we iiad to move rapidly — six 
miles farther to ride to reach Hanover Church. On 
we went ; we crossed Mauada Creek, and at lour 
o'clock, this last day of 1866, w^e stepped from 
the carriage in front of Hanover Church. 

The building is of stone and has been out of 



254 ^^^ HANOVER CHURCH. 

use for a score of years. The old forest trees stand 
thickly around the deserted building as they did a 
century ago. The old church books give minutes 
of a meeting held in 178 — in which it was resolved 
that the then old church was insufficient, and, by 
reason of age, unsafe, and a new one was necessary. 
Then resulted this now old church. The win- 
dow shutters were all closed — the door locked. In 
a near house upon the old glebe we procured the 
keys of the church and church-yard. The steps 
of red sandstone to the several doors had tumbled 
down but we clambered in. Leaving the door 
open we stepped to the centre of the old church. 

A portion of the roof had decayed and the ceil- 
ing of wood overhead was broken through by the 
elements, and pieces of boards were hanging down 
from above ; the cornice was perfect and entire all 
about the inside. The church was paved with 
bricks. The pulpit and clerk's desk had tumbled 
through the floor and were a wreck. iTothing re- 
mained of the old sounding board but the iron 
which had supported it, which still hung in its place. 

The old stove lay upon its side. All -the light 
we had came from the broken roof and the 
door left ajar. The old weather-beaten, faded shut- 
ters to the windows were closed. Various rumi- 
nations of visitors were penciled on the walls. I 
w^ent to Grandfather's old pew and sat in it, al- 
though it was lying half down on its side. I cut 
the number (26) from the end of the pew and 



OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 255 

brought it away. We also possessed ourselves of 
a portion of the pulpit. 

The feeling in this place was one of desolation. 
Here on this spot for a century had gathered 
an intelligent, prosperous, happy and godly people. 
The father and the mother came with their families. 
Here Grandfather and Grandmother and my Moth- 
er, with so many others dear to me, had been 
borne in maternal arms and baptized in the name 
of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. 
They grew up and entered these doors as blushing 
brides and happy grooms, and here many were 
brought in their winding-sheets to be laid away in 
the church-yard adjacent. And now of all that 
great throng of people but one family remains and 
they worship in Paxton Church. We experienced 
a feeling of relief on re-crossing the threshold of 
this house of the Most High, now deserted and in 
ruins, and breathing once more the outer air. 

Unlocking the gate of the church-yard we en- 
tered. There was not a track to be seen. The 
pure white snow covered the resting-place of the 
dead. A heavy stone wall surrounded the yard, 
the top surmounted with a moss-covered roof. 
One large tree grew in the center of the place, and 
there were two or three smaller ones scattered about. 
At the lower end of the ground were very many 
graves with simple stones and no inscription. 
These, Mr. Robinson said, were doubtless the very 
old people of Hanover, our great-great-grand-par. 



^36 ' OLD HANOVER CHURCH. 

eiits. It was sundown of this last day of the year 
when we locked the church-yard gates and turned 
our faces towards Ilarrisburg. 

There was much friendship and sympathetic in- 
tercourse between the people of Hanover and 
Derry. Derry lay immediately between Hanover 
and Donegal, and the people enjoyed in com- 
mon the blessed privilege of that charming inter- 
course so common between neighboring congrega- 
tions at communion time in the early history of 
the Presbyterian Churcli in this country. 

For some days prior to Communion Sunday, 
preparatory meetings were held. The minds of the 
people were drawn by the dear pastor away from the 
business of the hour and lixed with great solemnity 
upon the approaching celebration of that wonder- 
inspiring, always interesting, never to be fully 
comprehended sacrifice made by Our Lord for man. 

Friday and Saturday arrived, and with these days 
came the dear friends from I)err\^, welcomed by 
the good people of Hatiover to their bed and board. 
Each one entitled to partake in the great celehi-a- 
tion on the approaching Sabbath was provided by 
his pastor with a little metallic piece having the 
letter " D " upon it, as a proper evidence of his 
worthiness to sit at the Lord's Table. These meet- 
in srs have been described to me as accompanied with 
deep solemnity and searching self-examination. 
The subjects discussed were generally the amiizing 
love and mercy of God, and the terrible results to 



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